Another Shade of Grey - Part Two
by Killashandra Falta
Summary: This is the second part of Another Shade of Grey. Shana and Gideon have many issues to face in the immediate future but together they can tackle anything. But first, he has to find her. **This is an original story with some characters borrowed lovingly from FSOG by EL James and the Crossfire Series by Sylvia Day.**
1. Chapter 1: Gone

**A/N: I thought I would hold off, wait until I had a half dozen chapter written before posting this first new chapter. Yeah, I failed. I think I am as eager to put this online as you are to read it, so, here it is. I do hope you enjoy it.**

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**Chapter One: Gone**

_I tried to walk together_  
_But the night was growing dark_  
_Thought you were beside me_  
_But I reached and you were gone_  
_Sometimes I hear you calling_  
_From some lost and distant shore_  
_I hear you crying softly for the way it was before_

_~ Hymn for the Missing by Red_

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_She is not in the park. On my way to catch up with her._

I sent the text off to Gideon and grumbled as I tried to not inhale the scent of the cab or it's driver. I tried very hard to not imagine what or who had sat on the seat I am on nor did I try to think of what had been cleaned off it, let alone when it had last been cleaned. My phone vibrated, distracting me and I was grateful for it.

**_Where is she?_**

**_E 22 & Brdway. OMW now._**

To say that this was not like her would be a complete and total falsehood. This was exactly like her. The speed in which she had ran away from me had been a touch of a surprise. Oh, she had always been faster then me, but never this fast, nor this distracted. I knew I was in trouble when we had entered the park and I immediately lost sight of her. I knew that she had a tradition of going to the fountain first, which is where I saw a glimmer of her hair and her top before I lost sight of her as she ran past some bushes.

The further into the park, the further from me she was, but I had still managed to see a small tag of hers. I had been smart, or so I supposed, having called in a friend who had spotted her as she entered near the fountain, but lost her not long after that. He ran besides me for a bit as we tried to come up with an idea of how to follow her, but in the end I sent him home.

He left with a laugh remarking, "Try a leash next time! It works on dogs and small children!"

I laughed with him, but in my mind I knew that even if it were a good idea, the only thing in my mind was paparazzi pictures of her running in the park, on a leash, me flying in the air behind her like Marmaduke's owner in the comic strips. She might agree to it, I mused, if she could get a picture of me that way. I tried to not smile at the thought, I tried to retain the anger that had raged in me, but I never could. I should be able to, even for this, but I learned a long time ago to fight the battles you can win, be grateful to be alive otherwise.

I sighed as we approached the intersection and I handed the cabbie his fee as I exited. The anger was reborn when she was no where to be found. It was a crowded intersection, but she was gone. Again. She had _said_ she would wait! I am too old to be playing these fucking games with her!

_She wasn't in a game playing mood..._ I paused at that thought. She hadn't been. She had been running, totally absorbed in her thoughts, but... she wasn't playful. I grabbed my phone again and placed a call I hated making.

"Welch."

"Yeah, it's me. I need you to activate her GPS," I said with a grimace. I felt a tap on my shoulder and looked around quickly to see the hot dog vendor at my elbow. I turned away from him, hearing Welch chuckle on the other end of the line.

"She's at East 22 and Broadway," He answered in a rush. I was tapped on the shoulder again. I shrugged it off and looked around.

"No, I'm right here and she isn't."

"Uh... Look Jason, I haven't got time for games right now." _And I do?_ "According to this, she's right next to you. Try turning around." He hung up as a cold chill ran through me.

I turned around, lowering the cell and faced the vendor, who was holding her phone.

"Your friend, he left this for you. Said he would take care of her. He was taking her to the hospital. A headache or something." He shrugged and turned from me, heading toward his long line of waiting customers. I ran after him and spun him around, nearly knocking him to the ground.

"My friend? What did he look like? Did he say who he was?"

The man looked around and shrugged. "He looked like... like a man, in a suit, with a cell phone." Typical New York camouflage.

"Fuck. Where did he go?"

The man shrugged again, looking back at his customers, who many now were checking their watches. Possible witnesses and will be leaving the area in minutes. Great. Fucking great. "He got into a cab. A yellow one."

I let him go and quickly called Welch, but was surprised to get a busy signal. I tried again but it was no better. I was losing ground here quickly. I called Gideon, my eyes scanning the area. There were school kids on a field trip sitting in a group, a few sidewalk artists, a couple of homeless, a clown, a vendor on the opposite corner, and lines of people waiting to get out of the area as fast as possible.

"Cross."

"Gideon, I got a problem. I need you to do me three favors," I said, holding my voice in a very controlled manner. I knew this man, and I knew, that like Christian, he will run to be here as fast as possible.

"All right... go ahead..." He was cooler... but still calm. I nodded quickly.

"See if you can contact Welch. I can't get through to him. Next I need you to come down here. 22nd and Broadway."

"And the third," he said, his words tighter and I knew he knew it wasn't good.

"Remain calm." I hung up and dialed Welch again.

"We're sorry, the number you are trying to reach is not in service-"

"Oh are you fucking kidding me!?" All eyes in line stared at me as I clenched the phone. They had to stay. They may be the only link. The only clue. I approached the line in front of the vendor who had had the phone. "People! People listen up! This is an emergency! I need to know if any of you saw the man who handed this phone to this man a few minutes ago. He got into a yellow cab."

"Oh! I did," An older woman said. She had grey hair that was just on this side of being blue and was wearing a visor, a pair of transition pop-cap thick lenses and an "I Love NY" tee shirt. "He was in a dark suit and he helped that girl. The one that fell."

"That's right. They got into the cab. It was yellow," her tourist friend said. She wore the same outfit, save her glasses were not as thick.

"Did any one else see anything? What did he look like? Where did he tell the cab driver to go?" I asked the crowd but the answers were all the same. "A yellow cab." "The hospital." "A man in a suit."

"I can't get through to Welch," I heard behind me and turned to see Gideon in jeans and a tee shirt, stepping off his motorcycle. "Where is she?"

I walked up to him and placed my hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer to me so it would be hard to be overheard. "I don't know. But we'll find her. The witnesses say that she may have had a headache and some samaritan took her to the hospital."

He pulled back, his eyes searching me beneath his furrowed brows. "And what do you think?"

"I think we'll find her. We will." It was the only thing I could offer him as I dialed my phone again. "Mack, it's Taylor. Look, I got a situation. I can't get through to headquarters."

"Yeah man, your shit went off the grid like ten minutes ago. What's up?"

"The boss is missing." Gideon looked at me, an eyebrow arched at the words I used, but then he turned back to his cell phone which he was furiously texting on.

"Oh man. What do you need?"

"Everything," I said releasing a breath.

"You got it." As I ended the conversation, I could hear sirens in the background. Gideon had called the police, something I should have done when I couldn't get a hold of Welch.

_Mistakes will be made. Don't sweat them until after the event. Otherwise they will snowball._

_Right, focus,_ I thought as I felt a tug at my elbow. I turned to find a teenager in the latest summer fashions of too short shorts and too little of a shirt. Her hair was in pony tails and she was chewing gum.

"Sir, I may have taken a picture of that guy you were asking about," she said as she handed me her tablet and popped a bubble of her gum. I looked down and moved into the shadow to see without the glare of the sun. It was a man in a dark business suit, dark grey or maybe black? Standing next to a yellow cab. Shana was in the picture too. She stood next to him, on the phone, maybe six feet away from him.

"I'll need a copy of it," I said, looking up at the girl. She nodded, but I couldn't give her a email, in case it was compromised, along with everything else at Headquarters.

Gideon walked over to see what I had and grimaced, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a jump stick. "Use this," he said and I handed it to the girl. She took it, and the tablet, and began transferring the picture along with the others she has taken in case she had other accidental gold mines of information.

"Do you remember anything about that picture?" Gideon asked as a Detective and a patrol officer approached us.

"To be honest," she said, popping another bubble. "I didn't really pay attention, but I think he walked into her. Before she fell, I mean."

"He knocked her over," Gideon asked, his eyes aflame. I was afraid, for a moment, that he would scare the teen off, but she didn't even bristle.

"No. She didn't fall then."

"She yelled at him then." I turned and the old woman's friend nodded as she seemed to remember. They came towards us, each nodding. "He bumped into her and she yelled at him."

"That's right," said the one who wore the thick glasses. She was pointing over to where it must have been and continued with her memory. "She said... she said..."

Her friend rolled her eyes and looked straight at me, shoving a finger in my chest. "What the fuck? Do I look fucking invisible to you?" My eyes grew wide at her question and her language.

"Yes! That's what she said!" I looked from one old lady to the other. "Oh, and then he gave her the dirtiest look... and then she fell." She shook her head at the memory.

"And then he acted like a Saint, taking her to the hospital and everything..." I escorted the two women to a police officer, asked him to make sure that they got their witness statements on video. Age is a tricky thing, and these women are spry, but how long they will hold the memory is questionable.

A dark blue SUV pulled up and Mack jumped out, two others exited as well, and all three headed our way. I looked at Gideon who was talking to the Detective and scanned the area to see a crowd forming as police cordoned off the area. The hot dog vendor looked none too pleased, his line now gone and his cart on "this side" of the police line.

As Mack approached me, his two companions split off and headed for Gideon and the Detective. Gideon looked up at me for a moment and I nodded at him and he turned back to the Detective.

"This is a bloody mess," Mack muttered, looking around the area. He was right and after every minute that passes by, things seem even worse. "What have you got?"

"Well, I can't get a hold of Welch for one thing. I have her cell phone, so can't track her by it. A non-descript 'business man in a dark suit on a cell phone' and he claimed to be taking her to the hospital."

"Vehicle?" I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "Let me guess; a yellow cab?"

"Yep."

"Oh, that's fucking lovely." Mack looked around again, one hand on his hip the other running through the few red hairs on his head.

"All right, well, I got a geek in the van mousing around on the few cameras. So far it's shit. Seems every camera was blocked by balloons, another hot dog wagon umbrella, or something. Not to mention we lost contact with your Headquarters."

"So you said. There is no possible way..."

"None," he agreed.

"Well," Gideon said, his voice rough. I knew he was struggling to remain calm, but we were going to have to get him out of here quickly. Just then I saw the first of the media appear.

"It's not good. Look, something is going on besides Shana being missing-"

"Taken. You mean taken," he growled and I swear I saw his hair rise. I want to correct him, but he's right. My heart feels heavy in my chest and the world is spinning uncontrollably. This can not possibly be happening... "What else?" I blink and look into his blue eyes that have taken on the chill of the arctic summer.

I pull him aside, placing my hand on his shoulder again and barely indicate where the cameras are setting up as I try to regain control of at least myself. I take a slow, slightly shaking breath in and release it before I inform him of what may be going on around us. As I lay each domino down his spine stiffens straighter and straighter.

Unlike Christian, who would, in a matter such as this, buckle before finding his strength, Gideon is built by the odds that are stacked against him. It fuels him and I see that for the first time in a very long time as he gathers himself like the Black Knight, encasing himself in the darkest, strongest armor he has before taking everyone on. The air around us seems to change, morphing to accept the battle-ready stance as he turns to face the cameras. Before he makes a move, he is surrounded by his squires. His knights of PR and Legalities. I watch as they, as a platoon, march forward. I expect Gideon to look out into the crowd of cameras and chose a reporter. In the past it had been a young woman, almost always on her first assignment. This time, however, there is no precedent. Nothing as important as this has ever hit this close to home. Not for him... not for me. Not like this.

I watch as he gazes over the crowd of technology before he turns and ducks a question to his PR lead. She is immediately on the phone and I watch as he turns his back to the press and says something to his Legal Ace. He shakes his head at what is said, and then shakes it again. Finally he strikes through the air indicating that whatever it is they are discussing, his way is the only way. The Ace nods finally and steps back. He looks up just as my phone beeps and I look down to see that the first of the news alerts has gone out and as I click it, I see live streaming feed from whatever Gideon is about to say. So far, the truth has not scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

"There is no way for me to say this, but to just say what has happened without a smoke screen," he says clearly through my phone. I look over and see every member of his team on their phone save the Ace. "Normally, I wouldn't hold a press conference until all parties have been contacted. Do not be mistaken; This is not a press conference and I have not asked you to come here. You have come here like flocking vultures to see what dirt you can find and throw it on the air waves to see what goes viral and who you can hurt first."

"Fuck. Gideon, we need them," I muttered as I look up, taking a step towards him. I see his Ace touch his shoulder, and though he shrugs him off, his body language... well it doesn't change, but it has a new tilt on it.

"I didn't call you here, but I need you here." I watch the image on my cell as he shrugs, closing his eyes as if in defeat. No, not surrender. In acceptance of the first hit, maybe? Like chess? The first move... The Queen has been taken, but not surrendered. And Gideon has an army of pawns. "There has been an attack here, in this city. In this city I call home. I have returned home from my _honeymoon_." He paused as a large round of gasps ran through the reporters and nearby crowd at the word and cameras started going off. "My wife and I returned home from our honeymoon a few hours ago. She had left our home to run safely in this city she has cared for and loved... on a peaceful jog through the park and the neighborhood. She was last seen here, on this corner," he said, sweeping his arms wide and I know I heard a crack in his voice. It was a short moment before he found his voice again. I didn't need the phone to hear his next words. They boomed through the noise and the traffic like cannons. "She was_ taken_ by a man dressed like your average New York business man in a dark suit, on a cell phone. He put her into a yellow cab type vehicle. He lied to the witnesses around him that she was hurt and he was taking her to the hospital. I called you vultures moments ago, but... but... I need your help to find Shana Grey Cross." A louder gasp rippled through the crowd and the cameras flashed, but Gideon turned away, leaving the crowd to the PR and more importantly, the police.

He walked backed toward me, his Legal Ace at his side. I could see that the lawyer wanted to say a million things, but now was not the moment. Gideon needed a moment. As they came within feet, the lawyer looked up at me and I nodded. He returned the nod, turning on his step, cell in his ear as he hurriedly walked off. Gideon sat down on the curb and I sat with him, wishing I had a brandy to hand him, but alcohol, no matter how needed was not what should be consumed right here, right now. Especially not in front of the media.

I looked up as I saw some movement out of the corner of my eye and noticed then hot dog vendor that had initially handed me Shana's phone. He gave me a small nod and I saw in his hand two small packages. When he saw me notice him, he hesitantly came forward.

"I am... sorry, that this has happened," he said, handing me two small paper bags. "Please. I know it's not much, and it's not what you are used to... but you will need something."

"Thank you," Gideon said, reaching into his pocket. I watched as he pulled out his wallet and handed the man every dollar that was in there. Gideon is not a light weight when it comes to carrying cash, and he could have easily just handed that man a few thousand dollars. The man's eyes grew wide and he tried to shake his head and tell him no, but no one tells Gideon Cross no. "Take it. Please. For your help, and your loss of business. She would want you to," he said, his voice breaking again. The vendor looked at me and then nodded, taking the cash.

"She will be all right. You'll see. A fool would take her from a man like you. You'll see, you'll have her back by dinner. You'll see." He walked away repeating that and I hoped his words were true.

I handed Gideon one of the bags which held a New York hot dog with the trimmings and a bottle of water. Gideon tore into the hot dog, chomping down half of it in his first bite. His second bite finished it and he guzzled down the water. He didn't need prodding to be told to eat. He knew it was going to be a long day, though we both hoped it was not. Both of our thoughts were on the prayer that the asshole that took Shana in broad daylight is freaking out because Gideon went so very _very_ public so quickly. That was our prayer, but I prayed it wasn't falling on deaf ears.

"Mr. Cross?" We turned to face the Legal Ace as he headed our way. Gideon wadded up the paper remains of our meal and chucked it into the been over his shoulder without even looking. Distracted, tortured, but the man still has style. I shook my head at that thought and focused on the problems.

_Your focus will make the difference. Lose it and the cause is lost. But don't starve it. Take time to refresh. You will need more breaks during a crisis then any other time. It's the only way you will succeed._

"Well?" He was gruff, but it was understandable, though surprisingly, he wasn't much more different then his CEO persona.

"Sir, we've contacted her family-"

"Shit! Dammit! I'm sorry G!" He turned to me, and this time he put his hand on my shoulder. "I didn't think-"

"Jason, enough. It's fine."

"It's_ not_ fine! She's been... and I am fucking blind man! I can't reach headquarters, we've got no tracking... and I couldn't keep up. And now, now I fucking forgot to call her family! I fucking forgot about Christian!" His grip on my shoulder increased and he put his other hand on my other shoulder.

"Jason, listen to me. She trusts you like no one else on this planet. She is not missing because you couldn't keep up. She was distracted. You said you've run with her like this. You knew keeping up with her was going to be hard. This was not your fault. And this thing with Welch and your Headquarters. I wouldn't doubt that that and the shit going on in her business accounts is all related. Whoever took her, whoever did this... They planned this a long long time." I looked up into his arctic eyes and saw something there. Something that had the spark of hope.

"What do you know?" The words were out of my mouth but I barely heard them. He responded with the same volume.

"I know business. You know security. We _both_ know Shana." It was the spark of hope that I saw, because now, with those few words, I was able to center my mind on what I knew.

I knew he was right. If anyone knew the business world, it was Gideon. And Christian. Knowing her brother, he was on a flight now, and then there would be two bulls in that arena to deal with.

He was also right when he said I knew security. I knew that though hackers are brilliant and think in five dimensions (or so I have been told many times in the past) I also knew that the longer a hacker is in a "sandbox" the more footprints they leave behind.

Headquarters may be down and out, but Mack was tracking an issue before it went down. We have a geek-tech on-site who was here within minutes, pulling video and all sorts of feed before even the cops can. Don't be mistaken. We aren't "taking" the video and information. Only "copying" it. Technically it could be illegal, but we will have the information and be going over it before the cops get a judge to sign a warrant for the information.

"Have any of your properties been hit," I asked suddenly, but he shakes his head at me. "Too fast then..."

"What was?"

"You got married too fast. I doubt they even had a moment to think about hitting you as well."

"Yes... but... I can understand how helpful to them it was, taking down your security headquarters... but, no offense, wouldn't it have been easier to just take you out?"

"Not if they are hitting her," I said, shaking my head and watching him.

"Because it keeps you all deaf and blind," he said understanding. I shook my head again and he raised his iconic eyebrow at me.

"No. It's half hers."

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**A/N: Welcome back. So... What do ya think? I won't know what you think unless you review, so go ahead, give it a whirl. Also... be sure to check out my pintrest account. Got a few spoilers up. Here's the link, just add the dots and remove the spaces. pinterest dot com / killasshandra / another-shade-of-grey / ?e t dbc46c09**


	2. Chapter 2: Alone

**A/N: Something in this chapter y'all have been begging to know since I started writing this story. (Part One that is.) Hope it satisfies.**

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**Chapter Two: Alone**

_Sometimes I hear you calling_

_From some lost and distant shore_

_I hear you crying softly for the way it was before_

_~ Hymn for the Missing by Red_

Gideon turned slowly to gaze at me, as if I had just broken another trust of his. "What do you mean," he asked, his words low and slow.

I should keep my mouth shut, focus on her, but he needed to know. There is information in this world that everyone needs to have, should have, might have, might need, don't need, can't use, and will never know. This information is not for everyone. It's not truly important to most, but, it was important to her. Important that no one knew, though it is apparent that some outside the circle did know.

"You've gone over her companies," I stated. He nodded though it wasn't a question. "She has businesses that she is a silent, and invisible partner in.

"Invisible?" I nodded. "What do you mean, _invisible_?"

When he asked, his stress on the word was in a way that made me pause. I wasn't certain what he meant, so I explained, trying to gently offer him what I knew without pressing on whatever nerve I had just tapped on.

"She created World Securities International," I said, my breath low and steady. I could see his mind working, as if pulling up information in his brain. "I can't explain everything. Not here, not right now, but I will. She sold it, but as part of the deal, she remained as a 50% unknown owner."

"That's not possible. Even the sale had to be tracked, money, taxes..." He stood straighter, looked back at the throng of media and gave me one, sharp nod. "Later."

A new commotion arose as a man approached the Detective, surrounded by three more. Though he was considered a "little person" there was no mistaking the height of the man. His personality alone lets you know that in his mind, consciously or not, he considers himself to be six foot three and 250 lbs of hulking muscle. A man you neither differ to, ignore, doubt or question. Instead, he stands just shy of four and a half feet tall, close cropped dark hair, grey eyes and a hot/cold manner that switches without notice. He is a man you neither defer to, ignore, doubt or question.

We walk towards him as him as he explains to the Detectives (there are three now, since Gideon spoke to the press) about the attack at Headquarters and it's relation, or part of it's relationship, to Shana. The Detectives all take notes and then excuse Welch. He stepped aside as the Detectives turn to us.

"Mr. Cross, you and your people are free to leave the area now. We have all your statements, and will let you know as soon as we know anything. For now, it would be best if you went home." The words were spoken as though they had been spoken a thousand times, which they probably had. Gideon stood there, time having slipped as it took longer for the words to leave the Detective's mouth, travel the distance to Gideon's ears and be processed by his brain.

"Leave? Go home? But... Shana..." His persona's armor slipped, and I watched as he struggled to replace it. I knew how he felt. Being here, where she was, meant we were closer to her, that maybe, just maybe we were wrong and she will come walking around the corner with a smirk on her lips, that glint of mischief in her eye, wondering what the hell we were doing. She's fine. She's safe. There was no need to worry about her what so ever.

Except she isn't here.

"The Detective is right, G. It doesn't feel right to leave here, but all the right people are working on this." He looked at me, vacant a moment. I had to get him home. "We'll find her. She'll come home. Her family is on their way and we will need to meet them," I said at last, grasping at straws. He needs something to do, to be in control of, even if it's minute. That last one worked.

He stood straighter, readjusting the weight on his shoulders and nodded at looked at his watch and muttered, making me look at mine. Four hours. She's been missing for four hours already.

We turned to leave, finding Welch and his trio behind us. "Gideon Cross, this is Jerry Welch." The two men shook hands, and to some, seeing the two men might seem odd, but the power the two radiated seemed to put them on even ground.

"It's good to meet you, though I wish it were under different circumstances," Gideon said. He was becoming himself again, his strength easing back into his skin.

"Agreed. I am sorry for this. This should never have happened. I want you to know we are going to get her back." I nodded as he spoke. He cares for Shana more then most would assume, and she has always seemed to care for him like family. I can see, in the subtle ways of his, that her disappearance and the shut down of Headquarters has set a raging fire in him. "Mr. Cross, Taylor, we must talk. but we cannot do it here."

"Yes, we were just given leave to go. We can meet at my place. Her family," he said, looking at me, and I paused. I know what he is thnking. He wants to meet them at the airport, but he doesn't want to leave the house.

"If you want to meet them, we'll take a team to go with you. We can leave someone at the apartments in case they call," Welch suggested and I agreed.

"Good, yes... I rode my bike," he muttered again, becoming distracted again.

"I'll have someone take it back for you. If you don't mind, I would prefer if neither you nor Taylor drove for a few hours." Welch looked at me, and I gave him a half nod in understanding. He was right. We were both too distracted to keep our attentions on the road, especially in New York.

We walked to a black SUV Welch arrived in, ignoring the calls and questions from the media. Gideon paused before stepping in, looking around once more, in hopes that he would see her. I know that was why he did it, because I couldn't stop myself from doing the same thing.

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The drive was silent and cold. No one looked at each other, no one made a move to try to crack the silent air that hung between us. I glanced at Gideon whose eyes were pointed at the window, but he wasn't looking out it. I could tell he was lost. I felt the same way.

I felt the vehicle shudder to a stop and realized we had just parked in the garage in Gideon's building. I was so lost in the silence that I didn't even notice us arrive at our destination. Gideon hadn't either, but he also hadn't realized we were waiting for him to exit the vehicle.

"Gideon, we're here." I placed a hand on his shoulder and he slowly turned to look at me, his eyes vacant. "We're here."

He nodded then, and climbed out of the vehicle. We dragged the silence with us as we entered the elevator. We went to the lobby first so that Gideon could get keys and give authorization to Welch and others for access to the building. New ID's were ordered for Welch, myself and new rules for building access, security and monitoring were laid out by Welch, with Gideon's slight nod to him, letting everyone know who was head of security for now.

When that was all said and done, we headed for the elevator, the silence still weighing us down. I pondered the ease in which Gideon allowed Welch to take over. Nothing had been said yet, and no plans had been made, but they moved together like a well oiled machine, neither pausing nor correcting the other. It was, actually, kinda amazing how it went.

When the elevator came to a halt, I placed my hand on Gideon's shoulder, keeping him inside the car. The three men that had come with Welch all stepped out of the car and checked the premises. We were given the all clear and stepped out heading immediately to the living room, Gideon heading straight for the bar.

He clinked ice into three short tumblers, and splashed a hint of scotch into each. Welch and I walked over to the bar and each took a glass. A toast was not made, nor did we clink the glasses, but for a moment, we each looked into our glasses. I do not know what they thought but I would guess we each picture her in our minds. My heart ached with her absence. My soul cried out at my uselessness and my failures at protecting her. She was missing for two reasons; the bastard that took her and because I failed her.

I blinked, knowing my mind was playing tricks on me when I saw her reflection in the amber liquid in my , not her reflection. It was more like a memory, sitting on the top of the liquid. She was standing there, laughing, the wind blowing through a few wisps of her hair that had fought free of the braids she wore. It was a old memory. A very old memory. From way back when we were kids.

The first time I met her we were both too young to remember it. According to my mother, we had both gone to the same day care which was where we met. We lived on the same street, near the lake. We had been too young then to form a lasting relationship or to do anything beyond a scheduled playdate. She didn't live there long, though. After her parents passed away she moved to the city to live with her Aunt and Uncle.

I met her again in summer camp. We met and for the first time (or for me it felt like the first time), we got along like peas and carrots. It was the summer that forged our relationship and that almost hadn't have happened had her Aunt and Uncle (who had adopted her as their daughter) almost hadn't let her come. She was their first daughter, and I think they expected her to play with dolls, wear pretty dresses and faint at the sight of mud. Shana was a far cry from what they had expected her to be. She was the epitome of a Tomboy and she gave as good as she got. She was just like one of the guys; Dirt was her friend, bugs were play toys and she loved to run. She had a high tolerance for pain, which was tested time and again. She could swim as far as most of us, hold her breath the longest, climb trees like a monkey, and there was no one, not a single person, not even me, who was better at paintball then she was. For four years we would meet up at camp and have the best of times. Like all things, though, this too would come to an end.

The next time I saw her, she was at her Junior High School's Prom. My date went to the same school as she while I was at a Military Academy. My date went to the same school as she did, though I honestly didn't know it at the time. Because of that night, Shana went through a lot of grief the rest of that year and, I will admit it was totally and completely my fault.

We had already been at the dance for almost an hour when Shana arrived sans a male counter-part. Most women strive to be the Belle of the Ball, but Shana never did. After seeing her that night, I knew why she didn't strive for it. She didn't need to. She was the Siren of the Ball. She had worn a murderous black gown that dropped all the way to the floor but had a slit that nearly rose all the way to her hip. The top was a corset, sheer and beaded, but it brought her breasts up so high that I was surprised that they didn't pour out. When she walk, it was as if she floated across the floor, yet you could see, thanks to the slit, that not only was she walking on the floor, but on a pair of the highest shoes I had ever laid eyes on. Her brunette hair was dark, but it moved around her like a halo, none of it hiding her face.

She was beyond gorgeous.

If it hadn't had been for the dress, or the shoes, or that wicked slit, or maybe even her hair, all eyes would have been on her when she had entered the room because when she did, you felt her presence. I had stop mid-stride during a slow dance, as had most everyone else, all eyes at her. I watched as she had run her eyes casually over the crowd, and when she spotted me her face lit up with a beaming grin. I was punched in the shoulder a moment later, as apparently not only was I ignoring whatever my date had said to me, but I was also smiling back at Shana.

"What was that for," I said, pulling my eyes away from Shana to face the heated glare of the girl I brought to the dance (and whose name I can not remember right now).

"You know damn well what it was for," She barked before turning to face Shana, who had walked through the parted dance floor to stand in front of me.

"Hi." I had felt like such an idiot when I said that.

She grinned, one corner of her mouth rising higher then the other. "Hi," she returned.

"Umm... Shana this is..." Oh, yeah. and this is another reason why Shana had a hard time at school. I had forgotten my date's name even back then.

"Hi," she said with a nod at my date.

"I damn well know who she is. She's in two of my classes." I nodded.

"I didn't know you went here," I said, waving my arms around.

"Yep, for a few years. You look good. That uniform looks good on you." We talked for awhile and she introduced me to a few of her friends as we walked around. We danced some, but mostly, we talked. At the end of the evening she left with a date and my date left without hers. Also my fault.

We never lost touch after that and our friendship grew. Despite rumors and innuendos, we never dated. We never had sex and we never kissed, except a rare one on the cheek or so. I have never regretted knowing her. She's the best friend I ever had.

And I failed her.

I silently promised the image in my scotch that we will find her and then guzzled the small amount, letting the burn and taste bring me back to the here and now.

* * *

"What happened," Gideon asked Welch as we sat on the stools at the breakfast bar. Welch climbed down from his stool and walked back over to the bar and poured himself another splash of the Scotch. Enough to wet lips, but not enough to quench a thirst. Beyond what we've already drank, and his extra glass, we wont drink. We need to be on the ball with this case. More so then on any other.

"I can't confirm anything yet, but someone got into our systems and wipe all our files out. Everything is gone. Client lists, billing lists, all information we ever banked, it's been wiped clean." He said as he came back and sat down again.

"You had back-ups though." Gideon's voice was cold, sterile at the information.

"Yes, we did." I stared at him. _We did_, past tense.

"No way they got to the back-ups!" He nodded at me. "How the fuck does that happen? They weren't on the same network!"

"They weren't on any network at all, actually," Welch corrected. "It's why we can't confirm anything. We can't get into our systems. We can't access our saved information, if it's still there."

"All the back-ups?" I looked over at Gideon, his grip on his glass was so tight I was surprised it hadn't shattered in his hand.

"We hope that two that we haven't tried are still okay. But I can't access them until the IT guys give the go-ahead. There is information there that we need to track her down. In the mean time, we'll have to do this the old school way. Taylor?" I looked up at the call of my name to find him considering me. "Look, you were the last one assigned to her, and she disappeared on your watch..."

"Yeah," I sighed. I know the rules. I know them better then anyone because they are the Rules and Standards of World Securities International. I know them because I created their policy. "Yeah, I know."

"What is it?"

"According to the company rules, when there is a death or the client has gone missing against their will, the agent who was last with or assigned to the client cannot assist in the recovery or investigation," I explained to Gideon.

"You didn't do this. He didn't do this! This is not his fault!" Gideon jumped to his feet, his finger pointing at me as he exploded like a cannon at Welch.

"Mr. Cross, trust me when I say that I know he had nothing to do with it. But it's policy, and it's smart policy. His feelings for her, his connection to her, could possibly become too much of a distraction while we search for her."

"But you know her better then anyone they have," he professed to me. He was right, but the policy is more right.

"G, it's okay. Welch is right on this. I want to get her back, but look at the mistakes I already made because of my distractions."

"Mr. Cross, we'll keep him informed on everything, and if the need arises, I can consult with him, but this is the best thing to do for now. There is one other thing I have to alert you to." We both looked at him, our patience at an end. "Her GPS..."

"Right. I got it. Actually, Mack's got it. He was nearby with his van. His team is pulling the video."

"Right, I spoke to him briefly. Listen, I know this is hard, But you have to have faith that we will get her back. We've got good people, and we got on this right away, without hesitation. Taylor, go, get a shower while I get a team together to escort you to the airport. I don't think this needs saying, but... Hell. Security has got to be your main issue, for everyone. It's our job to protect and we will find her. But you, Mr. Cross, you have got to remain with a security detail at all times. Her family as well."

"I agree," Gideon and I said in unison.

"Since your base of operations has been compromised, can I offer you some office space, equipment, what ever you need?" This Gideon could do. Provide for her search until we could crawl back out of the darkness we had been shoved into.

"That would be appreciated." As Welch pulled out a notebook and began to jot down when he would need I ran to go take a shower. We could leave in fifteen minutes to head for the airport. I excused myself as I headed for my suite when Welch called back to me. "Jason, Mr. Cross is right. This wasn't your fault."

"I know Gerry. I keep telling myself that." He nodded taking his attention back to his notes. I do know it wasn't my fault. I just don't believe it when I tell it to myself.


	3. Chapter 3: Lost

**A/N: Thank you so much for continuing to read this tale. I am thoroughly enjoying writing it and am glad I have an audience that appreciates it.**

I want to dedicate this chapter to my dearest, sweetest friend and the best mother I ever had, Ms. Sherry in NC. I love you and know you are going through a rough time, and I really wish I were there for you. **huggers**

* * *

**Chapter Three: Lost**

_Where are you now?_  
_Are you lost?_  
_Will I find you again?_  
_Are you alone?_  
_Are you afraid?_

~ Hymn for the Missing by Red

* * *

The ride to the airport was as unbearable as the one from the corner of East Twenty-Second and Broadway. Taylor and I sat, each staring out our own window, our thoughts deathly silent. The silence was so loud it hurt. My mind wouldn't rest and I kept wanting to turn to Shana and ask her her thoughts before I was slammed, again, with the reality of her absence. Every time I remember it's _HER_ that is missing it's like a ice pick stabs me in the heart.

I glance over at Taylor but he is stoic, his eyes aimed out his window. I know that, like me, he's oblivious to what's outside because he is lost in his own thoughts of Shana. On top of that, he is drowning in guilt. By all rights, I should be angry, yelling and screaming uncontrollably at his inability to keep her safe. It was the only thing he had to do, follow her as she ran and keep her safe. Bring her back to me. I should be angry.

When Welch intimidated that there was a possibility that Taylor could be in on her kidnapping it took everything in me to not punch my fist through his face.I grant him that the rules they have in place for situations like this are acceptable and make a shit load of sense. Yes, treating him no differently then any other employee on his staff is also the proper thing to do. I agree wholeheartedly on both counts.

But this is Jason Taylor we are talking about! The man that created and set into place the very same rules! Fuck! He even insisted on Welch following the rules! If that doesn't prove that he isn't in on her disappearance, then I don't know what would except, of course, getting her home and interrogating those that took her until they bled the truth from every pore of their worthless bodies.

I can't be angry at Taylor. This was not his fault even though he feels as if he had failed her. He didn't. We all failed her. We all failed her, and it doesn't matter. What matters is that we don't fail her again. We have to find her. We will find her. It's the only thing that is important. Bringing her home.

"Gideon?" I looked up at the mention of my name and realized my palms were bleeding. I had clenched my fists so tight my own nails punctured my skin. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a handkerchief as I turned to face him. "Listen... I'm a bit... lost in this."

"Aren't we all?" He turned his head away from the window and gave me a small half smile.

"True... It's just... Look, since I could be on the suspect list, I don't think we should talk about it-"

"You mean her. And, no. You are wrong. I _know_ you aren't connected to this. I refuse to hear it anymore. From you, Welch or anyone. Are we clear?" My voice was hard as steel, and I felt that despite my words, like I had attacked him with my words.

"Yeah, I know. It's just that... Gideon, I fucked up."

I closed my eyes and held my breath for a moment, trying to pull together my thoughts. "Jason, you didn't fuck up," I repeated, shaking my head.

"I should have caught up to her. I should have called the police. I should have called her family."

"You knew she would out run you. That wasn't your fault. Don't worry about the cops. Look at all the information we got from all the witnesses because you were on your toes and realized they may have gotten lost in the crowd if you hadn't kept their attention. Don't worry about her family. We are taking care of that now. No, you can't blame yourself, Jason. If this is all connected, the stuff with her company, her kidnapping, your Headquarters... If it is all connected, and I can't see it not being, you have to understand that this was in the plans for a very long time." I paused as we turned onto the airport property, debating what he should know. I have to respect his wishes to follow protocol, but with him we might have a better chance at finding her. After a few minutes of pondering I decided that if he should ask to know what is going on, then I will tell him. Otherwise, I won't. Not yet.

Our vehicle turned once we were through the main gate that led to the private hangars. My heart clenched in a dull pain when I saw her name on her hangar. We both had a hangar here; One for her company and one for mine. When I purchased mine, I did not know she had one here, nor it's location. I found out a few days later that she did, and it was only two buildings away from mine. Only one hangar separated us. As our vehicle came to a stop, I looked at the hanger in between ours and saw it was for sale. Damned economy is still taking a chunk out of life.

We walked over to her hangar were greeted by the manager of the crew she has on staff here. He showed us where the pilot's lounge was and offered us a seat and a drink and then left us to ourselves.

The lounge was nice and modern, the lighting kept low to keep the pilot's eyes adjusted to a darker environment. One wall is banked with monitors showing the radar display, one is tracking the news and another showing arrivals and departures. Why that one is there makes little sense to me, but to each his (or her) own I guess. I ached to ask her, but I can't. I think about saying something to her every couple of minutes and the realization I can't seems to hit me just as hard as the first time I realized what had happened a few hours ago.

The pain of her absence burns into my soul, the pain is worse then anything I have ever felt before. No. Correction. The only pain that was worse then this was when I realized I had attacked her in my sleep. How in the hell can she still love me after that, I don't know. Hell, I think she may have the heart of a Saint in order to forgive me. I have never given God much thought during my life. With the abuse I suffered as a child, how could a God exist and allow that to happen? But now... Now I find myself whispering to him frequently._ Please keep her safe. Please._

I walked over to the bank of monitors and programmed in the ID for Christian's flight. It lights up on the board telling me they should be here in nineteen minutes.

Nineteen minutes.

Nineteen minutes and his plane lands and I will have to face him, deal with him and the fact that I couldn't keep her safe. Nineteen minutes and Taylor would have to face Christian and be buried in his grief and guilt again. Deeper.

I looked over at Taylor who had moved to the coffee bar. He was getting himself a cup of coffee and he must have felt my eyes on him because he looked up then, raising the decanter of java and silently asked me if I wanted some. I nodded and headed for one of the tables. Taylor joined me a few minutes later, bringing the coffee and a danish. I wasn't hungry, but thanked him anyways. _She would want me to eat_, I thought.

As the coffee cooled in front of me, I reached for my cell, checking for new messages. I ignored most, just scrolled down the list, hoping beyond hope I would see her name come up. I knew it was pointless. After all, Welch, or the police now have her cell. I just want to see her name. To see it pop up on the screen, to hear her voice...

"What do we do now?" I looked up at him, tucking my cell back into my jacket. He was cradling his cup of coffee in his hands, forgetting to drink it. I raised mine to my lips and took a sip. It burned my lips and my tongue, but I could deal with the pain. It distracts me for thirty seconds. thirty seconds that I didn't spend thinking about her, praying she was all right, hoping this was just a nightmare and I will wake up soon enough. I shrugged as an answer to his question. There were so many things I wanted to do, a millions ways to begin looking for her.

"Can I go back in time to yesterday so that I can stop all of this from happening," I asked him, but his only response was the tug of one corner of his mouth. I know that he was thinking the same thing.

* * *

The empty silence ate at us as we sat and waited for the flight to arrive. It was quiet and Jason and I were at war with ourselves, fighting the urge to jump to our feet and destroy the city, brick by brick until we could find Shana. I keep trying to think about her, but my mind keeps traveling to dark places, and I just don't want to think about the new ways she is being harmed. Or could be being harmed. Fuck! She has been through too much already to have to deal with more of this!

There was a squawk from the tower radio that broke my thoughts as I recognized the ident of Christian's plane. Jason was already at his feet, heading toward the door to greet the arrivals, but it would still be a few minutes before it lands, let alone pulls up to the hanger. As I rise to stand with him, my phone rings and I answer it immediately. "Cross."

"Mr. Cross?" It was Scott, my assistant. "Sir, I just received a message you will need."

"Is it from the police?"

"No, sir. Your sister. She is on a flight on her way back to New York. I can text you the flight information, or send a car for her..."

"Thank you, Scott. I am already here, so text the information. When does she get in?"

"In about an hour," He replied, and I could hear his fingers dancing on his keyboard. "Mr. Cross... have you heard anything yet?"

"No, nothing," I said, my heart heavy in my chest. "Thank you, for asking."

He sent over the information and I handed it off to Jason. "Once Christian's plane gets in, I will need you to pick up Ireland. We will wait here while you do. I don't want any of the press to spy on us right now."

"I'll take care of it," He said, nodding his understanding.

We left the lounge and headed for the tarmac as the ground crew on her staff prepared for the new arrival. Working as a well rehearsed team, the crew pulled up a fuel truck and a second limousine arrived to park near us. It seemed like a decade had passed before I spotted the Grey logo on the tail of a Gulfstream as it approached the hangar.

"You ready?" Jason asked. I shook my head no. No, I was not ready to face her brother. I was not prepared for the fight that would follow. I was not prepared for the yelling match that will ensue because I was not able to keep his sister safe. Facing it, though... Facing him... it was what I had to do. "Yeah... Me neither."

The jet came to a stop, the ground crew quickly placing the chocks in place behind the tires and opening the door to the jet, while setting the steps into place. When the engines had completely shut down Christian appeared at the doorway. I swallowed hard against the knot in my throat as he stood at the top of the stairs, his grey eyes fixed on myself and Taylor.

I've dealt with the man in the past. In business we are near equals, savvy to all things related to money. When you have conquered as much of the fiscal world and the three of us (him, Shana and myself) it is hard to continue to find a reason to strive for more. With Christian, I go after what he is after for the pleasure of winning. Sometimes I win, sometimes he does, but to me, and maybe to him, it is the battle to win that keeps the life in my business. It's a known fact that we have become "mortal enemies" in the press. A fact that I used to like to play with, enjoy striking against him, and of course, striking back when he has landed his blow. Of course, Since getting back with Shana, I haven't had the need or urge to do it anymore, and with her missing... we can't be "enemies". (A fact I am sure the papers are already spinning.)

Like a bull on a rampage, Christian Grey bounded down the steps of the jet, storming straight for me. My body tensed, preparing for what ever strike he plans on hitting me with. What ever he did, however he hit, I would allow it. I had to. I had failed his sister and I deserved the punishment that came with that admission. I braced for impact, closing my eyes at the last second. I lost my breath when he placed a hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes and found his grey, red-rimmed eyes staring back at me. His voice, when he spoke, was hoarse, proving he was struggling with his feelings over her disappearance as much as I was.

"What happened? Do we know anything yet?" I shook my head at him and his grip on my shoulder tightened and then released. "How are you holding up?"

"Barely," I answered honestly. He nodded and looked towards Taylor who was now giving Ana a short hug. He released her then and turned to Gail Jones, Christian's housekeeper, who had arrived with the family as well.

"What do we know," Christian asked again as Ana approached me. She gave me a tight hug which was short and sweet, but Christian's face hardened with a scowl before she released me. She turned towards him and stood by his side, wrapping her fingers in his.

"Gideon." I turned at the call of my name and saw Grace and Carrick approaching. Grace had her arms out wide and before I knew it, I was enfolded into them.

That broke me.

I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tightly as I fought against the tears. It was a losing battle. I heard her hushing me, felt her hand comb through my hair and all I could do was sob like a child.

I didn't care that it was in front of Christian or Taylor or Carrick. All I cared about was that the woman I loved was missing and Grace, her mother, was the only mother figure I had. My mother hasn't even called once to see how I am doing or for news about Shana or to even offer to be here for support. Neither has my step-father or my brother Christopher. Ireland did, and I thank God every day that Eva had insisted I do more things with her. Be the older brother I am instead of just letting Christopher be there.

Ireland was crying when she had called me a few hours ago, wanting to fly back from a vacation she and some of her friends had just left for. I, of course, told her to stay where she was, that there was nothing she could do.

_"Fuck that Gideon. You think I can relax on the beach while Shana is missing and you are suffering?You need me and I need to be there for you."_ Apparently she had found a new flight and was heading back.

"Are you okay now, honey?" Grace's arms loosened and I released her from mine. I wiped the last of my tears away and took back control from my heart broken body.

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't know-"

"Hush now," she said, interrupting me. "Sometimes all we need is a mother's love during the dark times to help light the way." I nodded, and noticed we were alone. "They went back into the hangar."

"Good. Yes... okay. We need to stay here for just a little bit longer, if that is alright with you? My sister's flight lands in an hour." Grace smiled and we turned toward the building. I offered her my arm and she took it as we walked.

"It's a good thing she is coming. Best to have people around you to support you. Or be there just for a hug. Universal medicine, you know." I agreed, nodding to her. I felt like I was in a small state of shock. A bit numb from all the events of the day and worn out from crying like a child. It was the shock, I think, that made me realize that this is what it is really like to have family that cares about you. Here is this woman, being a rock, strong and supportive, caring for me and what I am going through while it is _her_ daughter who is missing.

As we entered the pilot's lounge, Carrick approached us carrying two paper cups with him. He handed them to us and Grace went to sit at the table where Taylor, Gail, Ana and Christian had taken up residence. "How are you holding up, son?"

_Son_. No one has called me that in a very long time. I didn't even know I missed it until he said it. I didn't know I missed it until my heart contracted in a soft, warm pain.

"Barely." I replied, echoing my response to Christian just a few minutes ago.

"Hang in there. She'll be returned to us. Just remember, she is strong and she will fight hard to come back to us. Whoever took her, they made a huge mistake." He patted me on the back and turned, going back to the table where the rest of the family was sitting. He was right. She is a very strong woman, and now I see where she gets it from. Her family pulls together for each other, being there, supporting each other. I had seen it first hand when Christian's helicopter had crashed. They had all come together and waited, comforting each other, and here they were again. True family.

I walked back over to the monitors and entered in the information on my sister's flight. Her flight was on schedule and should land in fifty-two minutes. I turned and saw Jason reading the information I had plugged in and then he nodded at me. I returned the nod and headed back to the table when my phone rang. I answered it quickly without even checking the ID. "Cross."

"Gideon..." My heart leapt into my throat. Why it did that, I don't know.

"Eva," I said as I moved away from the family.

"I just heard about Shana. I needed to talk to you. See how you are doing."

"Thank you," I said, feeling a rough spot grow in my throat. "To be honest, I feel lost, out of control."

"Do you need anything? Do you want me to come to New York?" _Oh God no. Don't come. The press would have a field day and Shana would never forgive me_, I thought.

"Thank you, but no. Her family just arrived and the police haven't called me with any new leads. I'll call you when we have more information." I heard her sigh on the other end and for the briefest instant my mind wandered back to before that night at the rock concert. How good things were. How much simpler they had seemed. And then, that thought was gone as quickly as a popped balloon. She has Bret, and I have Shana, and I would not change a thing. Except not letting her go for that run. I would have stopped that in an instant, if I could go back in time.

"All right. But you call me if you need anything."

_I need Shana. That's all I need,_ I thought loudly, hoping everyone in the room could hear it. My phone beeped indicating another incoming call. "I'm getting another call. It could be the police."

"Well hurry and answer it. We can talk later." With that said, she hung up and I quickly answered the other call.

"Cross."

"Gideon." _Shit._

"Hello Corinne." My ex-girlfriend and my ex-fiance. And my missing wife's family is sitting right there, twenty feet away.

"Gideon, I am so sorry to hear about your... wife. How are you doing?" _Dammit! Is that going to be asked by everyone from now on?_

* * *

I cupped my hands under the faucet, letting the cool water pool between my fingers before I splashed it up onto my face. I raised my head and stared at the face in the mirror. The face that's been on more then two dozen different magazine covers. Hundreds of women fawn all over it, swoon from a look, and flirt to get anything, even something as minor as half a wink from it. I gathered more water into my hands and splashed it again, running my fingers over my features as my mind drifts to the "conversation" with Corinne.

When I had been with Eva I had maintained contact with Corinne, talking with her nearly every day. I didn't realize at the time how off kilter that was, considering how shallow our relationship was. It took Eva to point it out. Hell, a woman who calls her ex every day instead of dealing with her husband, it should have rang bells, but I had been oblivious. Once Eva pointed out how unhealthy it was, I put an end to it.

Hearing her voice tonight... It was unexpected. Her voice was the same as always; a touch of coyness, a hint of seduction a flavor of desire... But this time, for the first time, there was also the scent of desperation and her voice carried an echo of a whine. I don't remember what she said during the three minute conversation, I just know she was the very last person I wanted to hear from.

I just need Shana.

I need to wake up from this nightmare, gather my wife into my arms and and make love to her until I can forget everything but her.

There was a knock on the door and it opened. I looked up and saw Taylor had his head partially through the opening. I grabbed a few paper towels and dabbed my face dry.

"I'm heading out to get her. Gail is going to come with me, if that is all right."

"No, that's fine." He nodded, looked me over once and then left me alone. I took another look at my reflection and went back out to join the family.

My eyes glanced around the room casually as they always do whenever I enter a room. I learned a long time ago to take note of everything, but never appear as if I had. I saw how Ana sat very close to Christian, holding his hand as her head rested against his shoulder. I saw the way his fingers stroked lovingly through her hair, which seemed to calm him more then it did her. Maybe it does. Maybe that is why I love to run my fingers through Shana's... I felt my fingers curl into a fist, aching to do just that. Feel the silkiness of her hair, tease her with it's length. Remove it from the pony tail holder she put it in before she went... for her... run...

Carrick was lost in thought over at the coffee maker. It was obvious he was debating with something in his head, but it could be anything from a case he was working on to anything dealing with Shana. I wasn't sure yet, if he was the kind of man that found life fell more into focus if he ignored it, or if he looked for it. Which ever he was, which ever thought was going through his mind, he was totally lost in it.

Grace sat quietly, her hands folded in front of her, her eyes closed. She seemed peaceful, rested. Content even.

"Don't let her fool you," Christian whispered to me as I sat down next to him. He tilted his heads towards his mother. "She's plotting."

"Plotting?"

"Yeah. She goes over every outcome of a situation and plans it." I blinked and turned towards him, starring at him fully head on. "That's why she always seems calm, collected when the rest of us are basket cases. Shana does it too, sometimes." His voice drifted off to a softer tone. "She's different though."

I nodded, completely understanding but I remained quiet. He was wanting to talk and I would let him.

"She can enter a situation, take it all in and then go quiet. So quiet. That's your warning. When she does that, that's when you've lost. You, or whoever it is that is in the wrong. I'll never forget the first time I saw it." His eyes drifted off as a memory filled his thoughts. He was silent for quite awhile until Ana tilted her head up and placed a soft kiss on his jaw.

"Tell me," She whispered quietly. He opened his eyes and looked at her, nodding as she rested her head back against his shoulder. He kissed the crown of her head and then sighed.

"I was in... third grade? She was a year ahead of me. We had lunch and recess at the same times, but I was a very quiet child. She always sat with me at lunch and played with me at recess. One day, though, she was late coming to the cafeteria. I don't remember why. I got in line for lunch like always, but there were these three bullies behind me that kept pushing me. You see, it wasn't until very recently that I could handle people touching me," he explained, placing another kiss on Ana's crown. A small, soft smile appeared on her lips and he continued. "No one would bother me when Shana was around. But that day, she wasn't and these three, they kept at it. Then, one pushed me into the wall and held me there, his hand pushed hard into my chest. I began to panic and then, just over his shoulder, I saw her standing in the doorway. For an instant she was flushed with anger and then, everything changed. Her whole body seemed to... I don't know... She..."

"She went pliant," Grace supplied and we all turned to look at her, not realizing she had been listening.

"Yeah," Christian agreed. "I... I didn't know you knew."

"I didn't, not really," she returned with a soft smile. "Not about Shana. Her mother used to do that. Not often, mind you. But I saw her do it maybe a half dozen times over the years. She taught me how to "Earn the Calm" as she called it. I didn't know Shana could do it. But now, so many conversations make more sense..."

"What happened next," Ana asked, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. It was obvious she had a deep love for Christian, and even more so a love for a story he never told her before.

"Well, she was across the room, angry and then she was... soft is the only way to describe it. She started towards usand I swear, even to this day, she had crossed the room so softly I thought she was floating. Just as she got to us one of the pricks punched me right in the eye. After that, all hell broke loose. There were fists flying, and yelling, screaming, and I don't know how, but the only hit I took was the one to the eye. Shana walked away without a mark on her. But the oddest thing was, was that during the whole fight, her against the three guys... She never said a word. Not one."

"Everyone said you had started that fight, Christian. Why didn't you tell us this?" Carrick asked as he took a seat next to his wife, taking her hand in his.

Christian shrugged and looked away from his parents. "I didn't want her to get into trouble." He turned to me then with a grin. "She knocked one of the little shits out cold. He was unconscious for a few hours. When everyone heard I had done it, all the bullying stopped for awhile."

"But you still got into fights," Grace said, her voice low as she watched her son. I realized that for the first time she was finding out who her son and daughter, actually are.

"Yes," He agreed. "But I never started them."

"She always said that... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry we didn't believe you." She and Carrick stood and walked over to him. Ana released him and he stood apprehensively, but then accepted the hug they needed to give him. When he released them, they hugged each other and Christian sat back down, his hand instinctively joining with Ana's again. I watched as she caressed it, running her fingers lightly over his knuckles. Raising his hand to her lips and placing a kiss to the back of it. It made my heart ache as I watched the love she had for him. Made me miss Shana and her touch, her caress, her voice. The pain was so deep I was starting to drown in it.

* * *

**A/N: I wanted to take a moment here and thank all my new followers who found Shana's story this week and then found the second story. I am really enjoying writing this little tale and I love the questions I get in the PM's. Thank you for all your questions. When you ask them I know you love Shana because you want to know. **


	4. Chapter 4: Afraid

**Chapter Four: Afraid**

_Are you searching for me?_  
_Why did you go? I had to stay_  
_Now I'm reaching for you_  
_Will you wait? will you wait?_  
_Will I see you again?_

_~ Hymn for the Missing by Red_

* * *

"Gideon!" A high-pitched shriek roared through the lounge startling all of us. I jumped to my feet and spun, but before I could do anything more than that, I was tackled by Ireland. She squeezed me in the embrace, her body shuddering with sobs as she cried into my chest. I was at a loss at what to do with the girl. Grace, seeing my obvious discomfort, rose and unwrapped Ireland from me and pulled her into a gentle hug, hushing her as she had hushed me until she calmed down and her breathing became more steady.

I had never seen this side of Ireland before. She had always been... "sparkly" as Eva had once said. That, or she carried herself with that "teenage aloofness". This... broken down crying heap... I have no idea what to do with her.

It was a few minutes before I realized that another person had joined us. Mia had arrived with Ireland and like her, she was crying on her father's shoulder. I looked over at Taylor who only shrugged and headed back out the door, Mrs. Jones following him.

"Is Elliot coming too," I asked the room at large.

"No. He has an inspection he couldn't put off. He said they will fly in later tonight." Christian rose to his feet, holding his hand out so Ana could take it. Ireland had calmed and released Grace, thanking her. I was glad Grace was here. I am not glad for why she was here, but it's good to have a loving mother around, one that cares about you and for you. Ireland had it better than I when it came to our mother, so she knows what it's like to feel that love, that caring. Ireland came to where I stood, and I wrapped my arm over her shoulder, giving her a half sideways hug. With a nod to Grace, who returned it with a smile, we left the lounge, ready to head home.

Taylor and Mrs. Jones stood next to one of the two limos that were waiting for us. I could see apprehension on his face and realized he was trying to work out the logistics on the two vehicles. The vehicles sit seven people each quite easily, but we had five people who had brought luggage. Granted the trunks of the vehicles were spacious, but they weren't cavernous. In order to fit all the luggage in, the trunks would have to be bigger on the inside.

"The excess luggage can be put in one of my vehicles." I tilted my head in the direction of my hangar, two buildings down. He smiled and turned to take care of it.

The driver of the limo I arrived in opened the door and I allowed Ireland, Grace, Christian and Ana in before I climbed in. Carrick, Mrs. Jones, Taylor and Mia would be riding in the second limo.

* * *

I hate silence.

I hate the sound of it.

I hate the feel of it.

I hate the way it makes you feel worse than you already do.

I hate the fact that silence is becoming the soundtrack to my life.

The ride from the airport had been in complete and utter silence. I had wanted to break it, to say something, anything to destroy the cage of silence that had engulfed us, but in the end, silence won out.

"I've made reservations for us at Trump's," Christian said, his voice succeeding in destroying the silence.

"Cancel them," I said, my voice sounded harsher then I had meant to. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it like that."

"It's all right."

"My place is quite large. You all can stay there. Or, Shana's place... Or I can get you your own place in the Tower for as long as you need."

"I would like to stay at your place, if it's no bother," Grace said, her soft eyes searching mine. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Christian nod in understanding. "If the police call, they'll call you first."

"It's no bother at all. I'll have a room prepared for you and Carrick."

"Gideon, is her place... far from yours?" For the first time, Grace's voice was soft, quiet... apprehensive. She was losing the battle with the calm she had carried. My heart reached out to her.

"No, it's in the same building, actually."

She nodded, looking at her hands in her lap. "I've never seen it," she whispered. It was then that I remembered that until recently, Shana had hidden from her family. She had cut herself off from them. She had had no communication, no friendly visits, no holidays with them in order to protect them. She had made huge sacrifices for them and now, here they are. In_ her_ New York while she is missing.

I reached out a hand to Grace, her eyes lifted to mine and I could see the deep sadness in them. "I will take you there, then. She took a large breath and nodded, but the sadness barely wavered. Shana should be here. Shana should be here to comfort her mother, to welcome her into her home, to show her the sights and sounds of the city she loves.

As the vehicles approached the Tower, the paparazzi surrounding it was beyond ridiculous. It seemed as if there were cameras, both stills and videos, from other countries beyond just the local 's hand tightened in mine and I her a sharp intake of breath from her as we drove past the throng of gawkers and into the private parking facility under the Tower.

My phone rang and I noticed it was Taylor. "Cross."

"Have everyone stay in the vehicle. We have a set up for exiting. Also... have the police called you yet?"

"No... Why?"

"There is something on the news-feed. Just... don't check it until you get to the apartment. Or until you have talked to the cops."

"Taylor..." Fuck! Now I want to check it!

"I know... Please, Gideon."

"Fine." I closed the call and found a handful of eyes staring at me. "He wants us to wait in the car. They have something set up for us." Everyone nodded in unison and Ireland tugged at my elbow, asking for attention.

"Mia can stay with me, in my room. If she wants to." I smiled at her.

"And just how did you meet Mia at the airport?"

Her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Ummm..."

"Mia went on a short vacation with 'a few friends'," Grace supplied. "Apparently Ireland was the 'few friends'."

Ireland blushed as I looked to her to confirm this. "Does mother know?" She slowly shook her head at me, her eyes turning away. "Dammit Ireland! What if something happened to you? What if you had been taken on this jaunt and no one knew where you were or that you had even been taken? For fuck's sake! Shana was a few yards ahead of Taylor and look at what happened!"

I realized then how loud and tense I had gotten when Ireland broke out into fresh tears. Grace got up and had me scoot over into her seat so she could sit next to Ireland. She wrapped her arms around her and rocked her softly as she tried to calm her. I shouldn't have yelled at her. I should apologize. I should. But I couldn't. Not right now. Not over this. She was being stupid, selfish and reckless. I can't just let her think it was okay. It would never be okay. Not as long as I am Gideon Cross and she is the sister of a multi-billionaire. That just makes her a full-time target.

After a few minutes the car pulled up to where the elevator was. The elevator, however, was not visible as it was enshrouded in a telescoping tunnel that extended out to the car. When the vehicle stopped, the tunnel curved down, touching the roof of the vehicle which would allow us to exit the car without anyone seeing anything. Not who was in it or how many. We would be completely unseen. Finally! Someone with intelligence has created something that will have the paparazzi all cursing. As we exited I looked for the company name and grinned when I saw "World Securities International". Of course. It would be one of Shana's.

We were all finally in the elevator and as the doors slide together silently I released a breath I hadn't known I was holding. Our car began it's ascent and I couldn't hold off any longer. My curiosity was peaked and I just to check that damned news-feed. Taylor and the rest of our party would be on their way up to the apartment just minutes after we arrived, so I was satisfied knowing that whatever was there, we could discuss shortly. I tapped the app on my phone for the popular news station I prefer and when the app opened, it took a few minutes for me to understand what I was reading.

_"Body found in Central Park possibly identified as billionaire Shana Grey Cross."_

My heart froze into a solid block and I couldn't breath. I dropped the phone as the small room of the elevator car began to swim around me. My lungs burned, screaming for oxygen but it no longer mattered.

* * *

So far, so good.

Gideon had followed my directions and hadn't checked the news-feed before getting out of the car. My fear, of course, was just his reaction getting caught on camera, but his reaction in general. I know when I had read it as soon as it came over the wire I had wanted to jump out of the car and run back to Central Park to see for myself. However, because of my involvement in the disappearance, I would not be allowed near the site, and though I should argue against this until I am blue in the face, I would still be in the wrong.

Welch, however, did make a bee-line for the police station as soon as he had gotten word. I was hoping to hear from him before Gideon read about it, but that was wishful thinking.

Two of the men that Welch had put on site were riding in the elevator with us up to Gideon's apartment, and it was from them that the elevator car erupted in noise. Not them, actually, but their walkies. It took me a moment to understand what the commotion was and what was going on, but once again, I wasn't on the team in this instance, so I was out of the loop. There were parts of the squawking conversations that I could understand. Apparently Gideon had collapsed on his way to the apartment. I would lay money down that he had read the news-feed.

Our car was filled to capacity as we raced up the Tower. I looked at those around me who were now more nervous than they had been as we exited the limo. I swallowed against the lump in my throat as I realized that the people in the elevator car with me were uneasy. More uneasy with all the radio chatter then they had been since they arrived.

"There is something going on that I need to let you know," I started. All eyes turned towards me and I swallowed against the lump in my throat that had managed to grow and become harder. "Gideon has... collapsed. I think he went into shock after reading something the news channels are broadcasting.

"What is it," Carrick asked just as Mia shrieked and fainted. I quickly caught her in the confined space and him as he bent down and picked up the phone she had dropped. His lips pulled into a tight line, his fingers gripping the phone so tightly that they went white. He closed his eyes and then turned the phone off.

"What is it," Gail asked, her hand subconsciously reaching for my arm.

"It's a nasty rumor," Carrick snapped. Gail's eyes stayed on me, as if I was the only one there and the only one with any answers.

"They... found a body in Central Park." Her hand shot straight to her mouth and she bit down on her knuckle. "Welch went to see for himself. If there was even a small possibility it was her, the cops would have called Gideon."

"It's not her." Carrick's voice was low and harsh as he pulled out his own phone and began dialing. He looked up at me as the doors opened into Gideon's home. "I need a room."

As we stepped out, I picked up the unconscious Mia and handed her gently to one of the other guards who rode up with us. Carrick and I watched as he carried her away and then I escorted him to the security office. He thanked me and then closed the door. Were I to guess, I would say that he was using his knowledge and pull as a lawyer to get down to what is known. Or, to find out what we aren't being told.

"Jason." A soft voice called to me and I turned to see the woman I love looking very pale and very afraid. I raised my arms and she rushed into them, releasing her tears. "I don't know what to do," She sobbed. I held her close as she let the tears fall. What could I say? What words could I possibly offer her to soother her fears?

"We do what we always do, my Love." I kissed her forehead as I held her close. "They need us to be there for them You remember how it was when Christian went missing? They will be so involved in what is going on that they ill forget to take care of themselves. We will have to take care of them. Make sure they are eating, drinking, resting..."

She nodded and looked up at me, her beautiful hazel eyes searching mine. "And you? How are you doing?"

"I'm... alright." She pulled back, arching her eyebrows at me. "Okay, okay. I'm not alright. I hate not being able to help. I hate not being in the know about the situations as they occur. I hate that I can't be out front in helping search for her. And... Dammit Gail! I failed her! I fucking failed her and now... she could be dead and it's my fault!"

"No, Jason. You have to realize that this is not your fault. You didn't cause this."

"If I had run faster, I would have been there. She wouldn't have been taken."

She raised her hands up, placing them on my cheeks and tilting my head down so that we could see each other. She could read my eyes as well as I could read hers. "It's not your fault. With everything that happened this morning, taking her during your run or later in the day, I think she would have still been taken." She caressed my cheeks lightly and I leaned down, resting my forehead on hers.

"God I love you."

"Okay," she said, a smile dancing on her lips. "Mr. Taylor, we have jobs to do. So, go. Do your job and I will do mine." I kissed her, melting into her warm eyes. Her fears had quieted and she had pulled me back into the present. Tonight, when we settle into bed, we'll talk some more, but for now, we were okay. Or as close to "okay" as we can get, given the circumstances.


	5. Chapter 5: Hollow

**Chapter Five: Hollow**

_You took it with you when you left_  
_These scars are just a trace_  
_Now it wanders lost and wounded_  
_This heart that I misplaced_

~ Hymn for the Missing by Red

* * *

_I awoke with a start, my heart racing so fast in my chest it could outpace a Lamborghini Diablo. I had survived the worst nightmare I have ever had.I turned in bed, reaching for Shana. She is what I need right now. Her arms holding me, her legs wrapped around my waist as my cock finds it's way home. She is what I need and she will make these nightmares disappear like smoke in the wind. She is what I need, but she isn't here. Her side of the bed looked as if no one had slept in it all night._

_I jumped off the bed, racing to the en suite. The door was open but the only light within cane from a small night light near the sink. She was not here. I ran from my room, calling for her and Taylor. Anyone actually. Anyone that could hear me and answer. They could help me. I had to find her!_

_My feet felt like I was running in glue and no one had answered my calls for help. I checked every room on the second level. There were more doors then I thought there had been and most were locked. The locks didn't stop me as I kicked them open. I broke into every room, but Shana was in none of them._

_I heard talking and laughter coming from the first level. I ran to see who was there. Was she there? Why won't they answer me when I call for them? Why won't they help me find her? I could barely move my feet and going down the stairs was a battle. As I fought gravity I called out for her, but I couldn't make a sound._

_I suddenly found myself in the kitchen where Taylor was. I stood just feet away from him yet he didn't even turn to look at me. "Where is she Taylor?" He said nothing, just stood there, turning the knobs on the stove. The backsplash on the stove was not the tile as I had remembered it, but was instead a television screen. He was trying to find a channel to watch by turning the knobs on the stove. "Taylor!" He still didn't answer me._

_I heard the voices again and they were coming from my office. I raced in there to see who was sight within was not something I was prepared to see. There on my desk, was Ana, bent over the edge as Christian pounded into her._

_"Quit fucking around and help me find Shana!" The words came out as whispers and he didn't even flinch._

_"Gideon." Her voice! I ran out of my office, a feeling of relief washing over me. She was here! Now I just had to find her. "Gideon."_

_I ran into the living room, my feet no longer glued to the floor. She was there! She was standing in front of the fireplace, the flames making her skin glow and her hair look alive. She was a vision in a silk chemise that was mostly lace and highlighted all the parts of her that drove me crazy with need. She was a vision of beauty and my heart skipped as I wrapped my arms around her. I rested my cheek against her temple and inhaled deeply. I love her scent. She smells like a spring meadow after the rain._

_"God I love you! I couldn't find you. I had this dream... God! It was the worst dream ever. I dreamed you were gone. That someone took you and we couldn't find you... And then... they found you. At the park... but..."_

_"Shhh..." She ran a hand through my hair as I wept on her shoulder, holding her tighter to me. "It wasn't a dream, Gideon. But it's okay. I'm here now. Now everything will be the way it was supposed to be."_

_The scent of the meadow disappeared to be replaced with Chanel No. 5. The voice wasn't Shana's either. I pushed the brunette away from me and stared into the cold blue eyes of Corrine Giroux._

* * *

I sat up quickly, confused, lightheaded and afraid. I will not deny the fact that I was afraid. The nightmare of Shana missing, even possibly... dead... It scares the living shit out of me. I turned and sat on the couch, propping my elbows on my knees, resting my head in my hands. I had a small headache which made thinking harder to do. Beyond that, I was having a hard time believing that this time I really was awake.

I tried to think back over my dream, but as with most dreams, I couldn't remember all of it. What little I could was fading fast and would soon slip from my grasp. The one thing that I did remember was the one thing that wasn't confined to the Land of Dreams and Nightmares and that would be the panic in my soul from not finding Shana.

I rubbed at my face and took note of where I was. The last place I remember being at was in the elevator riding up to the apartment. But now I find myself in my home office sitting on my leather couch.

"Gideon, you're awake." The voice was soft and matronly. I turned to see Grace standing in the doorway. She walked towards me with two mugs in her hands. She handed me one and with a quick glance I knew it wasn't coffee. Apparently I was unable to hide the grimace on my face. "It will settle you," she said as she took a sip from her mug.

"What is it?"

"It's chamomile with honey and cream." I sniffed at it and looked at her skeptically. "It will relax you. Help you sleep."

I jumped to my feet, throwing the mug across the room until it slammed into the wall of windows, shattering the mug into tiny pieces and leaving the teas dripping down from the glass. "I don't want to sleep! I don't want to relax! I _need_ to find Shana!" I roared, my voice bouncing off the walls and the glass. The door to my office flew open with two of the new security detail running in, guns drawn and at the ready. Taylor was right behind them. "Get the fouck out of my office! Taylor! You stay! _Everyone_ else, GET! THE! FUCK! OUT!"

As Grace rose to her feet I noticed her hands were shaking but I wasn't in the mood to deal with it. She left without a word, the security detail following her, closing the door behind them as they went. I turned away from them as they left, focusing my gaze out the window. I could see Central Park from here. It was green and lush and... horrifyingly hideous.

"What's going on G?"

"Jason, I've been out of it. You tell me." I took a deep breath and released it as I pushed the next words out of my mouth. "Was it her?"

"No. It wasn't."

"Are we sure?" I heard him approach and I saw him out of the corner of my eye as he stop to stand next to me.

"Yeah. Welch and Carrick went to identify the body. It wasn't her." I leaned forward, pressing my forehead against the cool glass, deep relief flushed through me. _It wasn't her. She's not dead. It wasn't her._

* * *

Three days.

Three fucking days!

She has been missing for three damn fucking days and we still don't know anything!

Taylor still isn't "allowed" to help on the search. Welch knows somethings but refuses to divulge any information to us yet. Grace, Carrick, Christian and I have all take a leave of absence while we search, or I guess I should say while we _w__ait_ while others search for Shana.

Elliot had arrived late on the first night and since then has crashed on a couch, a bed or a chair for a couple of hours before heading back out onto the streets of New York, searching for his sister. As dangerous as it is, searching buildings, warehouses, crack houses, any building with three walls and a partial roof, he is prowling into them, seeking her out. His efforts, though valiant, I can't help but think it is a useless waste of time and effort. But, the truth is that of all of us here, he is the only one who can make that attempt. Elliot Grey is not a name or face that the media pays much attention to. He seems to have always missed the spotlight when it was shining at his family. I am envious of that right now. I would give anything to be able to walk the streets searching for her. Asking questions that might lead to clues. But I can't.

No, I have been doing the only things the police and Welch have _allowed_ me to do; I stay in the media. I do interviews, I beg for whomever has her to let her go. I have put up a reward, which Christian doubled and Diana added to the pot as well. I need to keep her face in the public forefront. I can't let them forget anything about her, her disappearance, what she was wearing...

Welch has set up a new headquarters on the 8th floor of the Tower, having taken me up on my offer I made him the first day, just hours after she disappeared. He was kind enough to set aside a small corner of the office for me, with a desk and a chair, but I don't use it. Since they won't put me in the loop of what's going on, there's no point of being there and being in there way. I haven't even stopped when the new computers arrived yesterday morning.

Each night of the last three nights, I crawl into bed and lay here, picturing her face, remembering her laugh... I lay here, hugging her pillow, inhaling the scent of her lotion and shampoo that has infused it's self into the fabric...

Three fucking days.

After two hours of not sleeping, I climb out of bed and head for the en suite. I splash water on my face and look at myself in the mirror. The man before me is not someone I know. His hair is unruly and there is a rough stubble on his chin. His eyes look sunken in and he has dark bags under them. Old. Old and tired. Old and tired and she has only been gone for three fucking days.

I decide to go to the kitchen and find something to eat. The apartment is dark and chillingly quiet. It's the way it always is when I have managed to dream over the last few days. I leave the overhead light off as I enter the kitchen, instead flipping on the switch for the light under the cabinets. The light is soft and unobtrusive, perfect for midnight sulking.

I grabbed the last of the milk from the refrigerator and thought for a half-second about drinking it straight from the bottle when the thought, _No, she would not approve of that. You know better,_ came to my mind. I sighed and opened the cabinet door where the glasses were held and reached for one, knocking her bottle of pills off the shelf. I caught it before it fell onto the counter, and held it tightly, feeling the ridges of the lid bite into my fingers.

It's the same bottle she had when she flew to New York to be with me, before dragging me back to Seattle. She had had a migraine then, one of the bad ones, and had been passed out through most of that flight. That had been a long flight, with Christian and I coming to terms with the fact that we were both important to her and she would not choose between us. She had been right, of course, but we had been stubborn. He threatened to kill me if I ever hurt her, and I threatened to let him if I did.

I put the bottle back into the cabinet, and then changed my mind, taking it back out and counting out eight pills before putting it back into the cabinet. Then I searched the kitchen drawers until I found the universal "junk drawer" and within it the box of small envelopes. The envelopes are used for new staff members of the cleaning and security crew so they have a copy of a key that will work in some of the rooms in the apartment they are allowed to enter. I may have staff, but I still need privacy.

I put two pills in each envelope and seal them. I will make sure that Christian, Taylor, Welch and Elliot all have an envelope. Wherever Shana is, whenever we find her, if she is suffering from a migraine, I want to know we have the means to help. I know that the Doctors would probably say it's the worst thing to do, but to me, it's at least _something_ I can do.

I pick up my glass of milk, and lean my back against the counter, staring at the small pile of envelopes resting on the counter opposite from me. It was then that I realized that the apartment was not as quiet as it had been and I recognize the sound of someone playing the piano. I gulped down the rest of the milk and followed the music.

The haunting notes lead me to my library where the white baby grand resides. The door to the room was open and sitting at the piano was Christian. His fingers were dancing effortlessly over the ivory keys. His eyes were closed as he played the tune which he knew by heart. It was a sweet, lovely tune that danced around the room. I stood in the doorway, listening and not wanting to disturb him. As the last of the notes faded into the air he looked up at me as if he knew I had been there all along.

"What song is that?"

"Fairytale. It's one of Sha's favorites." He began to play the tune again and I stood there listening. I could imagine her, sitting there next to her brother a smile alight upon her face. The song ended and with a thunderous explosion of bad, sour notes, Christian slammed his fists down onto the was nothing to be said. I felt the same way. "Nothing," he said, balling his hands into even tighter fists as if to keep them from destroying the piano. "Every private investigator I have hired has found nothing! Not a damn thing! How the fuck can someone be on a busy corner in the middle of New York City, surrounded by people and cameras and just disappear off the face of the Earth?" He launched to his feet, his hands still balled into fists, his knuckles white. His eyes were scanning the room as if to find something he could take his anger out on and destroy it.

"Follow me. I think I have just what you're looking for." He followed me out of the library and I led him down the hall and through the doors that led to the security offices and the sleeping quarters for the staff. I opened the last door down the hall and nodded for him to enter first.

The motion detecting overhead lights flared to life revealing the room as a miniature boxing club. Along one wall were racks for medicine balls, a couple of pull-up bars and a few speed bags. Along the opposite wall were a couple of heavy bags, an uppercut bag and a plethora of weights, jump ropes and other training equipment.

"Damn! Now this is what I'm talking about!" I couldn't help keep the grin off my face. I had impressed him and that was a feat I hadn't aimed for, but it felt fucking good.

"Want to spar?"

"Fuck yeah!"

We geared up in silence. I wrapped his hands in tape and tied his gloves on and then called one of the guys who was on duty at this late hour (just crawling past 3 am) to come and tape mine. We both warmed up on the heavy bags for about ten minutes before putting on our head gear and climbing into the ring. We stood facing each other, doing that oh so familiar toe dance of hopping and shuffling our feet before we tapped each others gloves and stepped back. Neither of us said anything as we began our boxing dance. Bobbing and weaving, watching how the other's body moved and reacted. Mapping the twitches and bends for each individual movement.

I thought I had figured him out when he rushed forward and swung at me. I realized quickly that I had misjudged him. He was faster then I had assumed he was, and his punch was solid as it bounced off my head gear. My breath escaped me with that first contact. It also broke the ice. Before I knew it, we were pounding away at each other, allowing our pent up aggression to explode outwards. I didn't know how many hits of mine landed, and I could care less how many of his got to me.

My hand rang with pain and the room was spinning around us. Fighting like this felt good. It felt... primal. I wasn't beating the crap out of Christian Grey, I was hitting the cops for keeping me in the dark, Welch for not letting us in, Jason for losing sight of her and destroying the person that took her. My arms and shoulders ached, my legs were tired and felt like jelly, but every time I laid a hit on Christian I felt better.

When we could fight no more or raise our hands we both collapsed on the mat. My breath was ragged, my lungs burning for oxygen and my body cried for water. It didn't matter. I was so worn out I couldn't move.

"Does... she know... you have... this?" Christian asked, struggling for air as much as I was.

"No... Haven't had... time... to show... her... Why?"

"She'll... fucking... love... it!"

* * *

Hours later, right as the city began to face a new day, Christian and I sat out on the balcony awaiting the sunrise. We had gone three more rounds in the ring before we felt we had had enough and our bodies begged us to quit. We parted company, each heading to our own rooms to shaower and change before meeting back here.

Mrs. Jones was awake and working in the kitchen when I had comeback downstairs. We had both jumped with a start not expecting each other this early in the morning.

"So sorry, Mr. Cross! I didn't know you were awake. Can... I get you something?"

I thought for a moment before answering her. "Those crepes you make for Shana..."

A warm smile formed on her lips as she nodded. "Blintzes. Yes, of course. I will make some for you."

"Thank you," I said with a nod and tried to offer her a smile in return. "Christian will be here shortly. Can you have him meet me on the balcony?" She nodded again and went to work on the breakfast. It wasn't to long after I left her in the kitchen that she escorted Christian to where I was, bringing two plates of the blintzes while he carried a bowl of sour cream and a bowl of sugar.

I had seen Shana have this as a meal a few times but never tried it myself. She always begged me to have "just a small nibble" and I always told her no and put it off until the "next time". I looked down at the plate before me, the hot, golden crepes and wondered if I had spent all of my "next times" and would never hear her ask me again.

I spooned out a small portion of the sour cream, spreading it as I had seen her do it, and then sprinkled the sugar over it. I cut off a small corner of one with my fork and felt like I was being watched. Sure enough, I looked up and found Christian, his fork overfull and halfway to his mouth. The movement was frozen in time as he watched me.

"You've never tried it before have you?" I confessed I had not. "You live in New York City and never... Nevermind. Try it." He shoved his fork into his mouth and leaned back, grinning as he chewed. It was the same reaction I had seen Shana do every single time she had her first bite of the blintz. Taking the bull by the horns, I cut the other corner, three times larger than the first one and closing my eyes, put the whole thing in my mouth.

Butter. That was the very first thing I could taste and then, like a crescendo, the flavors individually popped until it was one, warm, sweet melody of deliciousness. _Oh God, she was right._

"Well?"

"Obviously I am an idiot for not listening to her." He laughed at that and dug into the rest of his breakfast. "You think Mrs. Jones will give the recipe to my cook," I asked as I wiped the last bit around my plate, gathering the remnants of sour cream and sugar.

"Nope."

"No?" Christian shook his head as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Why not?"

"You won't believe me if I told you," he answered with a grin.

"Fuck you. Just tell me."

"Shana only really loves the ones her mother made."

"And it's a family recipe?" Easy enough, then. Since Shana is my wife...

"Yes, but not our family. They're frozen." I looked at him in disbelief and was about to have him explain when we were interrupted.

"Gentlemen, we need to talk," Welch said as he approached us.

* * *

Okay, first, thank you for reading this. I do actually love writing it.

Second, the blintzes. I grew up on these things, and they rock! They come in all sorts of flavors now; cheese, sweet cheese, apple, berry and there are tons of recipes available online for them. When I was six, my cousin Laurie taught me how to smooth a coat of sour cream over the top and sprinkle sugar on it, as described here, and so began my obsession with them. I love them!

Third, I want to thank ALL my new followers and everyone reading. I am trying to keep up with the followers and favorite and reviews, but Yahoo! has decided to eat all my emails. It's a battle, but thank you! I know you all love Shana and I know you are all "WTH? Where the hell is she? Who has her?" Patience my pretties. Patience.

And lastly... don't forget to check out my pinterest page www dot pinterest dot com/ killasshandra / another-shade-of-grey / to see the beautiful blintzes... and... some spoilers... :) ((Don't forget to add the DOTS and remove the spaces.))

**huggers!**

~Killy


	6. Chapter 6: Searching

**Chapter Six: Searching**

_Where are you now?_  
_Are you lost?_  
_Will I find you again?_  
_Are you alone?_  
_Are you afraid?_

_~ Hymn for the Missing by Red_

* * *

It was far to early in the morning for this to be good news. Christian looked at me as Welch pulled out a chair and sat down with a grunt. I raised an eyebrow at him, waiting patiently for him to explain himself, his interruption and his news. He cleared his throat, brought his hands together in front of him into a teepee and released a long sigh.

"As you know, we are using one of your offices as a temporary headquarters until we could get our operational again._ Yes, I know that. I offered it to you._ I hated when people stated the stuff I already knew instead of just letting me know the stuff I _want_ to know. I nodded silently, waiting. "You also offered us all the computers and equipment we would need. I took you up on that offer on the condition that we choose and purchase what we need, eliminating you from the chain of custody.

He paused then, checking to see if we understood his standing on that. Of course we did. It was good sense then and it's still good sense now. His last set of computer equipment was compromised. If I supply his new stuff, and it's compromised, then I could be a suspect. "You have no argument on me on that," I declared. Christian agreed with the nod of his head and Welch continued.

"Well, our IT guys went on a shopping spree and purchased the new equipment. When given a blank check and the words 'spare no expense', well... you get the best on the market. Thing is, see, when we first bought the equipment, well we bought the best out there and kept it in excellent working order. We made sure they always had the current updates, they followed a proper maintenance schedule... Everything the IT guys suggested. The guys got the same equipment again. They got them all up and running and installed all of our software. While all of that was going on, I made copies of all of our files."

"You said that everything was gone. Except two of the back-ups... Are they safe?"

He stirred in his seat, his eyes remaining on his fingers. "Mr. Cross, what I told you and Taylor... I lied."

"You lied? You... _lied_? Shana is out there, missing and you _lied_ to us?" The blood was thundering through my body as I tried to comprehend what he was saying without rising from my seat to kill him. I looked across the table and saw that I wasn't the only one struggling with this. If he lied about this, what else is he going to lie about?

"Because of Taylor." I looked at Christian, his words low and cutting cold as a blade of ice over my skin. "Because you didn't know if you could trust him."

Welch answered Christian with cold, dark eyes, his voice firm in his reply. "On that, I was following , we're getting sidetracked here and I have information you need to know." Christian and I both took a moment and then nodded for him to continue. "I've made copies of everything. A lot of copies. While my guys were installing the equipment, I called in a few favors and went to visit a friend in Langley. I gave him a copy of the files to run a few tests on them and they found something on them."

I sat up, my interest more peaked now that we had_ something_. "What?" He is taking his time, drawing out his time to explain when I would rather get down to the bottom line. Fortunately I know how to deal with this as it happens too often in the business world. I sit back, despite my eagerness, lay one hand on top of the other and... wait.

"It's a trojan, but not. It's hard to explain. In the files they all have this innocuous code. If you try to open any of these files on any computer, nothing happens. It's a security measure. A rather ingenious one. The files will only work on the computer systems with the proper key. But the key, you see, is built into the actual fabric of the machine itself. It's not just a code, or programming, the files, with the "trojan" will recognize the proper system. If it's the wrong system, it wont allow the files to open. If it's the proper system, the files are accessible"

"And they had this matching system at Langley?"

"Not... exactly." He looked up at both of us and sighed. "There is a prototype there. second generation. It wouldn't allow them to open the files completely, but it allowed us to poke at them. Safely."

"What did you find," I said as I rubbed the back of my neck. I could swear I felt a headache rising as always happens when there is geek-speak in the air.

"The software protection remains in place. The only danger is the additional trojan virus. The virus is... a brilliant piece of work and very hard to combat."

"You are impressed with a... cyber terrorist?" Christian's voice was low, harsh his hands fisted again into tight balls.

"What? No! No. This coding... the software, it's stolen technology."

"Explain. My patience is running very thin." I want the bottom line now. Whoever has done this knows where Shana is. And Welch is taking too long to explain.

"There are several versions of this particular security program. This one was in stage four when it was apparently stolen. I was not aware it had been stolen or I would have made changes in our system." He looked away, rubbing his hands together over admitting his guilt in that.

"Have you been in touch with the developer?"

"No."

"Why the fuck not?" This time Christian's words were not volcanic, but stealthy, like a shark. They still carried the same impact as if he'd jumped to his feet and pounded the table.

"I can't go into that now," Welch replied, his gaze icy. "What I can say is that all the mew equipment, it's been compromised. The software had been installed and loaded up and the system fried."

"I don't understand. You said that the files needed a... key to do as programmed." I looked at Christian and back to Welch to see if I had understood properly.

"I think, and all the techs believe this is the only way it could have been done... I believe the computers were manufactured to react adversely to the files." I blinked, soaking in what he had said, and trying to put together the facts myself.

"You said that the computers were built for your files originally..."

"Yes sir."

"Someone... stole the program, created the computers for you that would destroy the information and then sold them to you? Twice? The second time just happening to have the same custom computers on hand in case you needed them?" I looked over at Christian who ran his hand over his face in disbelief. "Have you contact the cops about this yet?"

"No," he admitted with a sigh. "Look... Thing is, this is getting bigger. And the more we find..."

"The more of a distraction it becomes," Christian answered and I fully understood what he meant. We could ride this new bit of information until it dries out, or pans out. By then, it could be weeks from now before we are closer to finding her. More effort, more time, more resources, straying further and further away from the main goal of finding her. "Is it possible to just put all this computer shit on the back burner until we find Shana? Until she is home?"

"I was... I... Look, there is a file. A very important one... If I can access it, we can find her quickly. Christian and I both leaned forward, glaring at the man to get him to say his peace. The man was tempting me to dangle him over the edge of the balcony if he did not get to the fucking point soon! "What I tell you... I'm the only one that knows this."

"Welch, listen. I know you are good at what you do, and that Shana trusts you. But I'm changing your game." His eyes rose up quizzically as I quickly pulled out my phone and bulleted a quick message. "You have got to trust someone she has trusted nearly her whole life. Someone I trust almost as much."

"Taylor," he said with closed eyes. It wasn't a question. He probably knew he was at the end of his rope and could go no further without him, just needed someone else to push it.

"Taylor,"Christian and I said at the same time just as he walked through the patio doors to join us.

"Sir?" His eyes scanned the three of us, taking in the scene and weighing the possibilities of what was going on.

"Have a seat," I said, waving at one between Christian and I, that faced both the patio door and was the chair Welch should have taken, but her was more of the desk man while Taylor was the "heavy". He slowly settled into his chair, his eyes pinning Welch where he sat. His gaze was steady and cold as he waited as calmly as was possible, to find out why he was called here. "He is about to debrief us on something he's been holding out on." His gaze burned colder.

"Shana was beta testing a new GPS device she had been working on."

"Gerry... Tell me it's not-" Taylor began, his body tensing.

"It is..."

"Fuck!" Taylor jumped to his feet, running both hands through his hair and then, like lightning he jumped at Welch, pulling him out of his chair and throwing him to the ground. As Taylor began pounding the man and Welch returned each landed punch with a thunderous one in return. Christian looked over at me and all I could do was shrug.

"Should we stop them," He asked, slightly bemused.

"Nope. Welch asked for this by keeping him in the dark. Now he has to pay his dues." Christian nodded, running a hand to the back of his neck and rubbing the hair there. We sat down then, watching and waiting until the two men had had enough.

* * *

The four of us sat there, Welch holding a package of frozen peas over his left eye and Taylor was trying to stop a bloody nose and split lip. Both were fighting him.

"If the GPS works, it needs a code to be activated. But I can't access the code because it's locked in one of those files. Welch actually looked relieved, finally being able to reveal this information he had kept from everyone.

"You said that this trojan software was stolen. Can't we contact the designer? I mean he has to have a system it works on since he created it, right? Or the GPS creator? They have to have the original access codes. Fuck, I'll buy them out if I have too."

"No, we can't get in touch with the," Taylor answered, his words slightly garbled from his split lip.

"Why the fuck not?" My hand slammed to the table knowing that the answers I want had to be here, easier then it's been so far. It has to. She's depending on me.

"Because the designer is missing," Taylor supplied, his eyes staring at me, telling me what I needed to know while asking me to keep her other secrets. I looked up at Christian who looked... thoughtful. My mind started to spin, the gears turning as pieces I didn't have to this puzzle started to drop in place, but there was still so much missing, so much unknown... And so much more about Shana I needed to learn about.

"From this point on, Welch, you work on the computer and theft issues. Taylor, you're lead man on the search for Shana. You have full access to anything you need." He nodded as did Welch and I looked at Christian. "I have something you and I will have to work on. Between the four of us, no more holding back. She trusts the four of us and we have to trust each other." The three men all nodded in agreement and we stood as one, ready to tackle the day.

* * *

Twenty-one days.

She has been missing for twenty-one days.

I feel empty and worn out. I'm too tired to be angry, but there is no one around to be angry at anyways.

Every night Christian comes over and we beat the hell out of each other. At first, we would talk a bit as we geared up and then share breakfast afterwards. Now, we barely grunt at each other. He arrives, we box, he leaves. I'm glad we don't talk. What's there to talk about? He knows what I know, and I know what everyone knows. I hope. Maybe that hope is wishful thinking and people are still keeping me in the dark.

I rarely sleep, but I'm always tired. When I do sleep I'm plagued with nightmares. I stopped seeing the my shrink. It was a hasty call but I am so sick and tired of people asking "How are you holding up?" that when he asked I turned right around, leaving his office and him in the dust. I haven't returned since.

Yesterday my board demanded a meeting and when I arrived they demanded to know when I would be returning to my position. I had taken a leave of absence and one would think that as CEO of my own fucking company I could fucking take off and help in the search for my missing wife. I told them to fuck off.

Twenty-one days...

God I miss her.

The media, no, not the media. the _true media_ has cooled on her story. The gossip rags, though... I know what they say. I know what they print. I've fucking read every single word, burned every single issue and cursed at them until I've turned blue in the face. I have purchased three publication houses until the board stepped in and stopped the fourth purchase citing "mental instability of the buyer". Fuck them to hell and back! Do they think I need them? Do they?

They don't know... None of them...

Those "papers"... they printed that I was "moving on" and "seen with" or "rumored to have been with" a dozen or more models in the last twenty-one days. Some even had the balls to come forward and gloat and gossip and_ lie_ about the nights we had together.

Sex. That's all they think about. My _sexy_ physique, my _sexy_ appearance, my _sexy_ hair, walk, salary... They want their name in the papers, attached to mine, so they can have fifteen minutes.

All I want is Shana back.

I don't want her just for how great she is in bed, or how her body calls to mine and mine to hers. Yes, I haven't had sex in twenty-one days, That's not the issue. I don't need her for sex. I need . I need her to be here, in my arms. I need to know she is safe. I need to know that no one is hurting her. I need to know that she isn't crying, alone, in the dark. I need... I need her.

She's my... heart. Not just a part of it, she is it. Without her, there is a hole that is empty and cold, waiting for her light to return. I used to roll my eyes at the old movie lines and the chick flicks when the talked about soul mates and someone feeling complete with the one they were with. I get it now. With her... I am the person I was supposed to be. I feel whole, I have purpose, I... am complete. Without her... There is nothing.

* * *

Everyday I come into my home office, turn on the computer, sit down and turn to stare out my window. I watch as the sun passes from one side to the other, as the rain begins or ends. I watch as the shadows of the tall buildings of the city sweep across the landscape. I watch as the morning lifts or as the streets change from business day to city night.

Today it was raining, and I sat here, watching it when I heard my name called. "Gideon?" I turned to find a much frailer looking Grace standing at my office door. "Do you have a minute?"

I rose as she came in, closing the door behind her. I met her halfway to my desk and hold my arms out for her to accept a hug. It's something we do every day that we see each other. Well, everyday that we see each other since I apologized over the "tea incident". We walk over to the couch where we sit silently for a few minutes.

"You don't look well," we say to each other. She blushes and grins at my. "Pinch and a poke, you owe me a Coke." I grinned back. "I don't suppose I do," she admitted after a moment.

"What did the doctor say?" Watching her deteriorate we finally decided to have an intervention and convinced her to see a doctor. We were frighteningly worried over her health.

"The man is an idiot," she said in a huff, a spark in her eye lighting her up like the Grace of Ole', waving her hand in the air in a "go away" maneuver.

"Why? Because he said something you didn't want to hear?"

"No. First he treated me like an invalid. Like I haven't been practicing medicine for the last fifty years and that my complaints were minor." I arched an eyebrow at that because that was what she had been telling us all along. _"Oh, it's only something minor. Nothing to worry about..."_ She huffed another breath and rolled her eyes. "He said I "shouldn't worry too much" and to "not dwell on what's going on" and then told me to drink some chamomile tea to calm me"

I couldn't help myself and smirked at that , considering our history. "And you told him...?"

"I told the little doctor in diapers to fuck off and I left." She blushed a brilliant shade of red when she realized what she had said to me and I grinned because in the few moment she has been here she seemed more herself then she has in... the last twenty-two days.

Suddenly the door to my office flew open, shattering the glass partition next to it. Grace and I jumped to our feet, my standing before her, protecting her from the whirlwind that had just rushed in. It was Christian, hair mussed and his face bright red as if he had just run up forty flights of stairs.

"They found her!"


	7. Chapter 7: Found

**Chapter Seven: Found**

_Fall asleep to dreams of home,_  
_Where the waves are crashing._  
_The only place I've ever known,_  
_Now the future has me._

_~ Hold Me Now by Red_

* * *

We rushed down to the eighth floor where Welch's temporary headquarters were located. We crowded into a quiet conference room awaiting any and all news as it slowly came in. Christian paced on one end while I paced on the other. Information came in as a slow trickle. Like molasses from a maple tree in the middle of winter. We waited.

And Waited.

Time ceased to pass in the over lit room with no clock. I glanced over at Grace and Carrick often, checking to make sure if she was all right. Carrick held her close, one arm around her shoulder, his other hand holding hers. Every once-in-a-while I would catch him placing a light kiss on her temple. They had one of those great romantic lives where, in the end, they didn't have to use words to communicate their love and they knew each other by heart.

The sound of a door opening drew all eyes and in the doorway stood two ghosts; Luke Sawyer and Jason Taylor. They were dead on their feet, each using the door jambs to help hold them up. Their eyes were sunken in as if they hadn't slept in weeks and their skin had an unhealthy shade of grey to it. Christian and I stood and walked over to them. Christian turned, gave his mother and father a nod before turning back to leave the waiting room.

We walked quietly to another waiting room and I couldn't help but notice the stagger in Taylor's walk. Sawyer was dead on his feet, sticking an arm out to the wall as we walked to help keep him on his feet. I opened the door to the new room, ushering in the other three men. Christian walked over to the standard coffee maker in the corner of the room and prepared two cups.

"Jason, Luke, please. Sit down." Both men collapsed and Christian returned, handing each a cup. "Have you slept yet?"

"Thank you," Jason said to Christian before turning to me. He shook his head no as he did. "No. Not til she was safe."

We joined both men at the table and I watched the two with a careful eye. Luke hadn't said a word and his hands only wrapped around the paper cup as if warming them. He hadn't sipped any yet. I wasn't even certain he knew it was there. He kept his gaze forward, towards the window behind me, but his eyes were empty.

"What will you tell us," Christian asked quietly.

Jason slowly sipped at the coffee, his eyes focusing on some distant image not in the room. He was haunted and quiet, signs that I did not want to hear what he had to say. I had to, of course, but I didn't want to. Christian, he was like a chained pit bull, his chain tight, but his teeth remained sharp and ready to sink into flesh. The words Jason kept with were the words that would unleash the beast.

The empty cup rattled in the garbage can across the room, a swiftly aimed throw that brought my attention back to Jason and Luke. I sat in front of them, waiting. I could feel an ache in my jaw and realized I had clenched down on my teeth, possibly grinding them again. A bad habit Shana likes to point out too often. I was trying very hard to restrain myself and demand answers. We haven't been told anything of Shana's and all I can picture are what I had seen in my nightmares.

In her past she lived through a hell that lasted three days. But those three days and what she endured left scars on both her mind and her body. She'd been tortured sexually, physically and mentally. After that, she ran from her family, trying to protect them. Shana is a very strong woman. One of the strongest I have ever known. She tried to not let it bother her. She tried to not let it change her. But it was always there, always waiting to haunt her.

That had been three days.

What of these twenty-one days? What horrors has she had to suffer through? How much pain has she endured? How close to death has she come to this time? Will... she survive?

"As soon as we got the co-ordinates, we stormed in." Jason's voice was low and harsh, as if he'd chain smoked a case of cigarettes. "I thought we were too late. That the co-ordinates were wrong. There was no sign anyone had been there. We used the thermal image detector... The signal... It was so faint. It... couldn't have been her... But I had to.." He paused, looking down into his clasped hands that were in front of him. After a moment, I stood and went to the door and opened it, finding two guards there.

"Whiskey," I said. One looked at the other who shrugged. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a flask. I looked at him but didn't raise an eyebrow at him.

"It's for emergencies only sir. I've never- not once-"

"Enough," I interrupted him. Now was not the time. "Later." I took the flask, inhaling a hot breath through my teeth. I should be furious that a man on guard duty for my family, protecting the people most important to me, had alcohol on him. Alcohol that I needed this very moment. "What's your name?"

"Douglas, sir," he said with a gulp.

"We'll discuss this later, Douglas." He nodded and I closed the door, turning back to Jason. I opened the flask and took a sip from it. It wasn't good whiskey, but it would get the job done. I poured some into the still untouched coffee of Luke's and then handed it to Christian who took a small swig of it before handing it to Jason. Jason shook his head, waving it off.

"Take it," Christian said.

"I don't..."

"Jason, take it," I said softer. He looked at me, and then the silver flask. He slowly took it from Christian and then took a long, hard swallow before re-capping it and tucking it into his jacket pocket. "Take your time," I said, half hoping he would ignore me and tell us everything as quickly as was humanly possible. After a moment, he spoke again and I hadn't realized I had been holding my breath.

"We searched every fucking room. Then we started tearing down the walls. The FLIR gear was helpful, but somehow it kept... If we didn't have all the geek tech..." He looked over at Luke who was now grinding his own teeth. He raised his cup, drank long and hard from it and then spoke words that made a chill run through my spine.

"No one would have found her."

"It took hours before we found the hidden door. It was solid steel, but the tech gear couldn't see it. It read like normal wood. It was like a vault door though! Multi-coded locks, that were supposed to be un-hackable. It took another two hours to get through it."

"Who the fuck had her," Christian asked, his hands balled so tightly I could see the shadows of his bones through his skin. Jason shook his head and then stood unsteadily and walked to the coffee maker. I give the man credit for not taking another sip of the whiskey, but I was jonesing for it now. Maybe with some coffee. But, there was a time and a place for that and this was neither. I waited for him to return to the table we sat at, but he stayed in that far corner, his back towards us, his hands gripping the counter tightly.

"She was caged..." I almost didn't hear the words Luke said and turned to face him. His words were having a hard time processing in my brain, but Christian didn't seem to be having the same issue. As soon as the words were out of Luke's mouth, Christian had jumped to his feet, picked up his chair and threw it through the window that led out into the hallway. He ran out of the room and I hoped that he was heading to find out everything he can on everything we had; clues, locations, etc.

Jason came back and sat down, his eyes dark with pain and sadness. I had to wait. He would continue in his own time. Or Luke would. Either way, I had time. I didn't have much patience, but I had time. Until I was allowed to see her, I had time and I wasn't going anywhere.

"I think it had been a wine cellar at one time, but... the floors... were dirt. There was no heat, no light, no windows... There was... a voice. On tape. We have it. Welch is trying to get it analyzed, but..." He stopped, his words just hanging there. I wanted to push him. Yell at him to make him tell me everything, but I held back. It took every ounce of control I ever had to let him take his time and find his words. He looked up at me, his eyes were rimmed in red, and were blood shot. "G, I don't think they were going to let her live, but the voice... the recording..."

"What? What did it say?" I had to know. I didn't want to know, but I had to know.

"You don't exist. He doesn't care about you. They'll never find you. He never loved you. He used you to get your companies. How do you think he knew what to look for? He played you like a toy. He hated you for breaking his heart and this was his revenge. Who do you think has the resources to hide you like this? You don't exist. He doesn't care about you. They'll-"

"Enough!" I felt the air vibrate with my shout, cutting Luke off. His words, cold, static and all lies. She wouldn't believe them. She could never think...

I got up and walked around the table, trying to compartmentalized things like Shana says she had done in the past. just so that I could... deal in the right here and now. I placed a hand on both men's shoulders, my heart breaking for not only what Shana went through, but also for what they had both seen. "Thank you. Thank you Jason. Thank you Luke. Thank you for bringing her back to me. I know you probably wont leave, but go. Get something to eat... If you want-"

"A shower," Luke said. "Please, I... need a shower." I nodded, patting his shoulder.

"There's a hotel a block away. I'll have one of the guys get you there. You can shower, change, nap if you think you can...?" Both men nodded slowly. They were very near the wall of exhaustion. They'd make it to the room, but the shower may not happen.

I escorted them to the door of the room, and handed them off to the two guards that were there. (Neither of them were Donaldson.) I gave them explicit instructions on making sure the two men got to their rooms and at least found a bed or a couch. The four left without another word and I went back to the waiting room the family was in. Hopefully there was news on Shana.

She was alive. She was found and she is near and she is _alive_. My heart felt a little lighter. Not much, considering what I was told, but still, a little bit lighter.

* * *

Everyone was here now, waiting. Elliot had returned from the West Coast with his fiancé, Ana sat on Christian's lap, his eyes closed but his hands held her tightly to him. She had her forehead to his temple, whispering to his ear. She was the calm to his storm. She seemed to always know what he needed and how he needed it. To anyone in the know, Christian was a Dom, but Ana... she was more than his submissive. She was his soul mate and there was no denying that.

Mia was here, having flown in with Elliot. She stood apart from the family though, standing at the window that looked out to the parking lot below. Her eyes were blind to the view as she was lost deep in thought, or grief. I approached her quietly, placing a hand on her back for support. I was unprepared for her response.

She spun around quickly, her arms gripping me like a vice as she wept into my chest. I held her as she cried and when her sobs shallowed down into soft whimpers and hiccups I loosened my grip on her. I reached into my pocket and handed her a handkerchief.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice rough from crying. She dabbed at her eyes and wiped her nose. "This is becoming a bad habit, crying on you."

She tried to hand me back my handkerchief but I held up my hand, stopping her. "Keep it. I'm sure the waterworks aren't shut off yet." She smiled and looked around the room, a frown creasing her eyebrows.

"They said you were talking with Jason and Luke...?"

"Yes," I said with a nod, not wanting to think about the conversation. "I sent them to go get some rest. They haven't slept in days."

"How was he? Luke, I mean?" I looked at her, trying to offer her some reassurance.

"He's... haunted." She nodded, twisting my handkerchief in her hand before turning back to look out the window. "He needs rest and he'll be back to himself." She nodded again, wrapping her arms around herself. "He's at the Continental. The Presidential Suite. I'll make sure you can have a key. If you... want to check on him that is."

She spun to face me again, hugging my tightly. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Excuse me," a quiet, unfamiliar voice said, breaking the silence in the room. We all turned as one to find a young doctor standing in the doorway, slightly nervous as he looked around the room. I approached him, leaving Mia at the window. I watched him carefully, hoping for any sign that he had good news. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly and I feared the worst. I heard Grace inhale sharply behind me but I refused to take my eyes off of the man. "Are you the family of Shana Cross?" He asked and then swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing loudly.

"Yes," Carrick answered. My voice was frozen in my throat, fear wrapped around my heart.

"I'm Doctor Parnell. I have been assigned to her care."

"Her... care? She's alive? She'll be okay?" Kate asked the questions we were afraid to ask and I found myself glad she was in the news media field. Thier hearts and minds work to ask what others can't. It's not always a good thing, but right now, it is.

"She is alive. She is dehydrated and malnourished... She will recover, but it will take some time."

"Injuries?" Grace's voice was firm and cool, he stance changing as she put on her more controlled physician's persona.

He nodded and waved his arm, indicating we should all sit . He seemed more in control now, more "doctor-like" then he had when he had come through the door moments ago. We sat among the furniture, crowding together as he pulled up a chair towards us.

"Shana's injuries are both physical and mental. Most of the physical are easier to heal. The mental will take some time. Nothing is in her records, but you said she had gone through something similar before?"

Grace nodded, and I watched as she wrung her hands together. "We only found out about it recently. She was... held against her will for three days and suffered... abuse."

"If you could," the doctor started thoughtfully. "It will help the on-staff psychiatrist that's been assigned to her case if she knows what Shana has already survived."

"No," Christian said gruffly. "Her psychiatrist is flying in tonight. He will take care of her." The doctor approved with the bending of his head. I was glad Christian had made the call, but Shana had told me repeatedly that she hated shrinks. It was a surprise to find that she had one.

"Very good then. Her physical injuries are another thing. Her wrist was broken-"

"That happened before she was taken," I said, barely able to hear my own voice. I couldn't look at her family, face their accusing glares. In all honesty, when they asked, I knew I wouldn't be able to deny the harm I had caused her.

"Yes. We could it had been an older injury and well along it's way to being healed. She will need surgery to repair it this time." My head shot up at his words, anger burning my soul. We are going to hold off on the surgery for the wrist. She has some head trauma that is... more worrisome. She is not responding to us."

"What do you mean," I growled.

"We know that she is conscious, but she won't respond to us. I think that, in order to protect herself, she has... gone someplace in her mind, until she is safe."

"I understand," Grace whispered, the words dry on her lips. "It's a self-defense mechanism. It's not something that we can rush. Like everything else she does, she'll come out on her own."

"What do we do?" It was the first time Elliott had spoken in hours.

"For now, let her know she is safe. We want to hold off on the surgery for her wrist until she starts to respond to us. As for her head trauma, we are going over the CT scans now." Brain injury... Non-responsive... These were the words that were shouting at me as he began to go over her other injuries. I admit I didn't pay attention. I just wanted to see her. Touch her. I wanted to know that this was real and not just another nightmare. Oh, it was still a nightmare, but one we all were sharing. "She is able to have visitors, but only one or two at a time."

His words broke through my thoughts and I looked up to see all eyes on me. "Grace, you and Carrick go first." Grace jumped to her feet and came over, placing a kiss on my cheek. Carrick nodded at me and then both left, the doctor walking them to Shana's room. "Christian, you can go next. Elliott?" He nodded and then I looked at Mia, still standing at the window. Her body was making small motions and I knew she was trying to cry quietly.

"Your parents will be a few minutes. We need to go to the cafeteria." Kate got to her feet, dragging Elliott until he got to his feet. I watched as a look passed between Kate and Ana before Ana's eyes lit from within and she nodded.

"Baby, I'm hungry. Can we get something to eat?" Shana had told me about Christian's food issues and Ana was using it to her advantage. He wrapped his arms tighter around her and then gave her a kiss on her cheek before releasing her and stood. She came over to me then, gave me a hug and whispered in my ear, "Let Mia go next. We'll be back." I nodded and watched them leave.

I walked over to where Mia stood, her arms even tighter around her body and her sobs visibly quaking through her. "Mia?" I placed a hand on her shoulder and she spun around, wrapping herself around me again as she released her tears. This time I had been prepared for it and held her until she calmed.

"It's because of me. All of it. The last time, this time... She- she could have d-died!"

"No, Mia," I said as I tried to comfort her. "Listen to me." I pulled her back until she could look at me. Her eyes were red and swollen, her mascara had run down her face and her lip trembled with every breath. I reached behind her for the box of tissues and used one to wipe the mascara from her eyes. "The first time was not your fault. It was that bitch's fault. No one else's. Not Christian's, not Shana's and definitely not yours. Do you understand that?" She shrugged like a child as I tossed the tissue into the nearby bin. "This time, the only person at fault is the one who organized the whole damn thing and hurt her. Do you understand that?" She nodded and I kissed her forehead. "Would you like to see her now?" She nodded, wiping her sleeve under her nose in a very un-ladylike way, but so much like the child she seemed right now.

* * *

We walked down the hall together, my arm around her shoulder, giving her support as I would Ireland. _I should call her. She would want to be here, _I thought. We had seen Carrick and Grace leave the room as we turned down the last hall. They turned away from us, stopping to talk to Christian and Elliott who were further away. Just as we stopped at Shana's door, Mia turned and hugged me again, whispering "Thank you" in my ear. I gave her a smile and opened the door, allowing her in. As the door closed behind her, I turned away from the family and called the hotel as I told her I would.

"This is Gideon Cross," I said to the staff member that answered. "I need to add someone to the list. Her name is Miss Mia Grey. Be sure she is given a key and escorted up to the room. I would also like a breakfast buffet delivered when she arrives." I was told it would be taken care of and hung up.

I turned to face the family, but instead met stars as Christian's fist slammed into my jaw. Shock registered, but only momentarily as my body instinctively fought back. I have been fighting with this man every night for three weeks. I know his actions and his reactions. I never met his blind rage like this.

His eyes were on fire, every swing making contact with my body. This wasn't grief or stress, this was deeper than that. This was... primal. I fought to fight off his strikes, knowing we could kill each other if I chose not to. Carrick and Elliott were trying to pull him off, restrain him, but that only enflamed him.

Ana was nearby, trying to call to him, call through his rage, but her attempts were failing. It was up to me then. I was his equal in this though I was weakened without the rage.

In the confined space of the hall, I used the rails that ran along it. I braced my body against the rail, lifting to kick and then wrap my legs around his throat. I twisted, pulling him to the ground. He struggled but I had the advantage as I began to shut off the oxygen to his brain. Ana dropped to her knees, calling to him as Elliott tried to get me to stop. I couldn't stop. I had to wait until I saw he recognized her voice. Or passed out.

I didn't hear the words she used, but I saw her hands run through his hair, caress his cheek and then, for a second, his eyes changed. I didn't know if it was from the lack of oxygen or her voice, but it wasn't the blind rage. I released him, Elliott helped pull me away from him. Carrick, Grace and Kate all stood quietly.

"You okay man? What the fuck was that about?" I turned to Elliott as I stood and shrugged.

"Fuck if I know." As we watched, Ana brought Christian down from his raging heights, but when his eyes slipped away from her, he pinned them on me. His lips snarled and he struggled to his feet. "Get Ana," I said to Elliott, the words a mere whisper.

"What the fuck are you doing," Christian demanded as he became steadier on his feet. "My sister nearly loses her life, survives you attacking her, nearly killing her, and now, as if you aren't hurting her enough, when she is beaten... broken... dying... you start making moves on Mia?"

The man has lost his bloody mind.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Elliott demanded, releasing Ana who seemed to have paled at his words.

"I _saw_ him! I saw the way he held her in the waiting room! The way he touched her!" He raised his hand to me, his finger shaking violently as he pointed at me. "He is taking her to the hotel! Arranged a key! A breakfast! What-"

No one saw it coming.

No one expected it.

The slap to Christian's face was so violent and loud it ricocheted down the walls of the hallway like thunder.

"How... dare... you." The words were cold and cool as they left Mia's mouth. Christian stood there, his hand on his cheek, staring at her in stunned silence. "Who. The. Fuck. Do. You. Think. You. Are?" Each word was said in the same controlled coolness. I was afraid to move. Or maybe I was too stunned to move. No one moved. "Shana's _husband_ was making certain I was okay. He would _never_ cheat on her. It's _Shana_, you ass hole. If he tried to cheat on her, we'd never find his body. What's more, _I_ would never do that to her."

"Then explain the hotel room," he growled, hand still over where her hand had marked his face.

Yep. He's lost his mind.

"I don't have to explain shit to you," she said, her voice rising as she pushed a finger into his chest. "But to save you from your own suicide-by-stupidness, he did that so that after I saw Shana I can go see Luke, one of the men that saved her. If he is awake, I plan on fucking him until he passes out. If he isn't awake, I'll crawl into his bed and wait until he does wake up. Either way, he will be _very satisfied _by the time I am done thanking him for saving Sha."

I heard a stifled giggle behind me and knew it was Kate. I didn't want to turn and face the looks of Grace and Carrick. I could only imagine their reactions to Mia's declarations. Besides that, there were the other things Christian had said.

"Christian, you owe Gideon and everyone an apology. Then you can go in and see Shana. Then, you can take me to see Luke."

Christian nodded and slowly lowered his hand from his cheek. To say that there was now a red impression of Mia's hand blazing on his cheek would be an understatement. I would bet the entire East Coast was confused with a second sunrise. "Mia, I am very sorry to have thought that of you and I hope you will forgive me."

"Holy fuck," Elliott whispered.

Christian turned to face me, his hand out. I took it, feeling the heat from it that had come from his cheek. "Gideon, I'm sorry. I tend to jump to conclusions and I know you would never hurt Shana by cheating on her." An admission and an ommission. I couldn't fault the logic or the truth.

"I would have made the same conclusion, I think." He nodded and turned to the rest of his family, apologizing to them.

When he was done, he turned to enter Shana's room before freezing in place as Mia's cold voice called to him. "When it's time, you'll apologize to her, too." He swallowed audibly and then entered the room, leaving us alone. With Mia.

It was Kate who broke the ice with her question, "So... Luke Sawyer, huh?"

Mia blushed and giggled and the Icy Dominatrix that had cowed Christian was gone. I didn't want to know if she knew what she was or if that's ever happened before. All I knew was that Luke was a lucky man indeed. One way, or another.


End file.
